It's Only Forever
by Shiroiyuki3
Summary: He spoke of dreams without ever having dreamt. He sang of love without ever having loved. In reality, his life was filled with goblinistic mayhem and stinking bogs. So is it any wonder why he was an absolute beginner at romance? When a girl stumbles upon his book and wishes to be taken away, the Goblin King discovers that love isn't all just sequins and dancing. Jareth x OC
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth or its characters. Life can be so cruel.

It's Only Forever

Prologue 

The woman trailed a finger along the wooden banister as she ventured upstairs, sounds of sorrow falling further and further away. The funeral was still going on. It had been _hours._ Three, in fact. Never had she seen so many shallow tears on shallow people.

The turnout had been massive; with mourners filing in from _God only knew_ to come feign respect. TV news reporters and podcasters were televising the event as if it were a parade instead of the grim occasion it actually was. Paparazzi took at least a hundred photos of her during the service. Channel Five wanted to know how she reacted to her aunt's death. The _Hollywood Reporter_ was desperate to learn if she would contribute to the _E! True Hollywood Story_ already in production. _The Inquirer_ asked if she worried about developing Alzheimer's, too. Or if her aunt had contacted her yet beyond the grave.

Fake condolences had been given in rapid succession for the first hour and a half until she'd busied herself in the kitchen. And then, when that safe haven was overrun, the woman slipped away unnoticed in the crowd, taking leave to the second floor.

Evelyn didn't know how to handle that media circus. The only other funeral she'd been to was that of her own parents years ago, witness only to a handful of mourners at most. Real tears and real pain, without the mass frenzy of would-be stars wanting attention. No one took selfies near the coffin. No one sought the limelight or said "Hello!" to mum; people just came to say goodbye.

The woman reached the top and looked around, not sure what it was she was even looking for. For all it was worth she was a stranger in this house, the lavish estate of her late aunt. An aunt she never quite knew. Never quite loved. Bitter sentiments and neglect echoed after the sharp click of heels.

Despite her being her late aunt's only living relative, Evelyn hadn't had much reception. It wasn't as if she expected much, but still. The woman assumed she'd at least be _welcomed._ Her aunt's solicitor had drilled it home when he came to her, adamant that the girl wasn't in the will; so happy to announce that fact, the man practically had grinned from ear to ear. "Oh, but you didn't need to come all this way. How's the weather across the pond? Snowing? You don't say! What was your name again?"

She'd been something of an actress back in the day, her aunt. A sought-after model before her looks quit her. Although the way Evelyn understood, the woman's reputation had been of far more consequence than any sort of career she'd boasted. She'd married rich, and married well, and after putting in a few years of marriage her husband had left her his fortune. And this mansion.

This place had once been grand, with high vaulted ceilings and stately moldings upon the wine coloured walls. In the last months of her life her aunt had been moved to a private infirmary for care, this place left to ruin. Even the servants had abandoned it to dust. Someone had the good sense to cover the furniture before leaving at least, ghosts of chairs and chaises haunting rooms beyond each arched doorway she passed. But there was something to be said for a house left vacant. Without people to make them a home, they took on all the charm of a lifeless corpse.

She meandered aimlessly for a bit, just happy to be alone, until she felt the oddest sensation stop her near a door. She didn't know what to make of it. It was like all the little hairs on her arms stood on end as one.

Curiosity pushed the door ajar, the sturdy oak creaking loudly to reveal a bedroom.

The woman paused near an Edwardian table, taking in the vast array of grandeur within this large suite. The room was quite impressive. Unlike the vibrant gallery she'd come out of, this was a world of muted cream and silk, with refined pinstripes upon the walls and touches of gold upon the fixtures. Every piece must have been carefully selected by hand during its creation in order to match the light gentility of its root décor.

A fantastic oil painting above the bed depicted a lady in a simple blue dress reading a letter, one arm resting on a chair. Evelyn gazed at its realism in wonder. It was quite masterly done and most likely an original from the time period. It was obvious this had been her aunt's suite. What could it have been like to sleep in this whale of a bed, amongst the sea of silky pillows? For a few minutes she simply marvelled at all the luxury. The girl moved around the suite, enchanted. Most of the furniture had been covered but she could see the makings of a chaise and two chairs situated around an ornate table.

The rich tapestries draped on the windows were some of the finest she'd ever touched. They were a rather disappointing shade of ivory though.

A bird outside suddenly hit the window, causing the woman to startle. She watched the little owl fly off and perch on a nearby tree. Evelyn took a step back, eying this odd creature as it watched her. So transfixed in this task, the edge of a bedside table caught her by surprise.

Pain flared for a brief moment in the spot the sturdy wood had connected with, the woman giving a not-so-elegant display of rubbing her bum with a grimace.

"Damn," she ground out. She'd bruise no doubt. With a silent prayer she thanked whatever God was watching that the ornamental lamp hadn't toppled over. "Hmm?"

Something almost out of place in this fairytale of a bedroom took her attention. Amongst the ornate, a flash of faded red and tattered binding caught her eye. Sitting askew on a bookshelf as if put there by mistake and then forgotten, was a small book. The oddity of such a wretched creature existing in this world of prim and proper struck her.

She wasn't sure what had possessed her to take the book. She wasn't sure why without a thought she snuck it into her bag and quit the room, as if her goal for being on the second floor was complete. Nor was she sure why the owl outside gave an amused hoot and sailed off shortly after.

Her aunt's solicitor didn't say anything on her way out, only pausing his conversation with a reporter long enough to manage a brief nod in her direction. No one questioned her departure. No one remembered her, anyway.

But as soon as she boarded the aeroplane whatever spell she'd been under faded, and all through her flight the girl sat troubled.

Deep in the recesses of her luggage was a one-way ticket to Hell. She'd nicked it off a dead woman for God's sake! What was she thinking? She'd surely send it back with a proper note. An accident, she'd claim. Very sorry, didn't mean it. Must have fallen in…Blast that bloody owl!

Somewhere just on the edge of reality, in a place made of fairytales and mischief, a group of Goblins woke abruptly from their sleep.


	2. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth or its characters. Life can be so cruel.

It's Only Forever

Chapter One

On a brisk December evening, she stared up at the moon from her bedroom window, a pale jewel beset against the diamond sky. It was almost completely full tonight. A haunted look came upon her as she readjusted her dressing gown, feeling a sudden chill. It seemed a storm was brewing, whether imagined or not. Something dreadful had fallen upon this quiet landscape. Her mind was prey to dangerous thoughts.

The wind picked up, sending dead branches into a tumult against the sill outside, like so many sharp claws. They painted ghastly shapes across her cream-coloured walls.

The ghost of an owl drifted past for just a moment as the bird settled itself lightly on a tree nearby. In a swish of obsidian, its dark eyes turned toward her. The small creature stared at the woman standing in the dying light of her fireplace, watching her closely. It gave a low hoot and swivelled its head about in the unpleasant way owls do. With a shiver she couldn't quite blame entirely on winter, Evelyn withdrew from the window and let the gossamer curtain fall back into place.

She disliked barn owls. There was something very unsettling about them. The woman began to notice the strange affair ages ago, right around the time she'd first met her aunt in the states. Many would say she was mad for thinking such wild things, and perhaps she was, but the truth remained. They seemed to follow her. Relentlessly.

She'd seen one at least ten times today in fact, a new record, before and after her flight back.

No matter which window she used it seemed that bird was out there. Circling low, landing, shuffling around, hooting anxiously, preening in its odd way. Watching her. It may have been ridiculous but Evelyn had come to the conclusion it was waiting for something. Almost as if…stalking her. A winged portent of doom, perhaps. Given her actions today it would make sense. Somehow, and the woman couldn't explain _how_, that little bloody owl knew what she'd done. And oh, it was watching her alright. She'd become positively obsessed with keeping a tab on the bird that was _Up To No Good._

"They do say paranoia is one of the first signs..." she mumbled to no one in particular, craning her neck to peek outside without disturbing the curtain. Couldn't let it see her… _Wow, I am mad._ With a long sigh, she gave up. Absolutely mad, she was.

The woman seated herself at her vanity, taking up the tea which lazily drew tendrils of steam in the air. Her eyes momentarily caught on her mirror and she looked away as if burned. Her gaze fell guiltily to the book in front of her, bound in aged red buckram and gold lacquered thread. A black boarder of flowery was embossed and faded along its edge. It was beautiful in that old world kind of way but for all intents and purposes, it was just a plain, worn-out book. It had belonged to her aunt. Sure enough, for reasons unknown, she'd nicked it from a dead woman. _Gods…I really must be mad. _

Evelyn took a sip of tea and feeling foolish, dared another glance into her mirror.

Green eyes looked back accusatorily at her before she stood, setting her tea down with a hasty clatter. On shaky feet she paced, her mind entertaining thoughts as turbulent and disturbed as the storm outside. All through the funeral she was told how much she looked like her late aunt. Uncanny, they'd said. You could _play her_ in the _E! True Hollywood Story_, they said. After all, it's like looking in a mirror!

Words could be so cruel.

Ironically, she couldn't stand to look in any mirrors now. It was as if her aunt was looking back, condemning her.

Evelyn, feeling suddenly overwhelmed, quit her erratic movement and lost herself in the mirror once more. Did she really even look that much like her? Long dark hair forever untamed cascaded in thick waves past her shoulder. Pale, alabaster skin glowed in the firelight. Eyes, washed out jade beneath thick lashes, were almond shaped and large on her face. She blinked a few times for good measure.

With an irritable hand she touched her cheek. Gods, they were_ right_. Those vulgar Hollywood people were right. Who was she kidding? She looked far too much like that old bat for her comfort.

How she wanted to grow up blonde like her father. How she wanted brown eyes like her mother.

The Fates were laughing at her, she knew. With or without some miraculous divine intervention, from this day forward she'd damn _herself_ anytime she looked in the mirror. _If was your own fault for stealing that bloody book, Evey…serves you right. _

Just about collapsing in her petulant fit, the woman sat and traced this object of corruption's embossed details gingerly. _The Labyrinth,_ it was called. What an odd title for a children's book. Sounded more up Stephen King's alley. She had no idea what possessed her to take it. Without much enthusiasm at all, the girl lifted the thick cover and let a few pages flutter down upon their brothers, sporadic art catching her eye. It was a bloody stupid mess she found herself in. All for this bloody book.

Evelyn wanted not for money or material things, having inherited a modest estate some thirteen years prior upon the death of her parents. She lived quite comfortably, if one could call loneliness comfortable. This cottage had been an unintentional gift of her late father's, mortgage paid in full. It was a nice home. A proper home.

So why in God's name did she want some old book, of all things?

What use could she have of a children's book? She was almost twenty eight and without children of her own. _The Labyrinth._ In their brief stint together, her aunt never mentioned such a book. Not even in the handful of obligatory Christmas letters they'd exchanged did the topic come up. So why had it seemed so important? Maybe it was just guilt talking, denial possibly, but something felt off about this whole situation. Maybe the book was cursed. Yeah. That made sense. It really was a strange subject for a children's book, after all. Some nefarious plot to break her moral compass. Perhaps. Or, maybe she just was mad and grasping for straws.

The stiffened cover escaped her hand, pages splaying open upon the mahogany. A rather jaunty character clad in black and ruffled chemise was frozen in his magic dance upon the parchment, accompanied by odd little goblins and fey. Evelyn tilted her head and studied the man. _How odd._

Something about him stilled her breath. Without knowing why, she reached out to touch the drawing.

A sudden high pitched screech jolted her hand away. It had come from outside. Nervously, she looked to her window. Could that bird still be out there? What an insufferable creature. With a mental note, the woman made plans to buy a hoard of cats in the morning.

Cautiously, she drew back her curtain just enough to see a sliver of moon. Clouds had moved to cover its pale light, casting odd shadows across the ground. The owl shuffled its talons anxiously across the branch it occupied, still watching her. Its gaze followed her movements and noted the open book with a smug little hoot. Dreadful things, owls. Make that two hoards and a _barrel_ of cats. Cats for days. Did cats come in barrels? She wasn't sure. But damn it if she wouldn't find out in the morning.

Evelyn was just about to turn away when it took off from its perch and disappeared into the night sky.

"Good. Serves you right," Her voice broke the silence. "Bugger off and don't come back. Cats for _days!_"

The woman released the gauzy curtain and crossed the room. Even without the owl's judgement, nothing about today boded well for her. That drawing seemed to leer at her from its page. Feeling suddenly vexed at the world, she narrowed her gaze upon it, the source of her frustration.

"Bloody book…and bloody Aunt Sarah. I must have been out of my mind."

In the flickering light cast by her fireplace, the woman read the caption beneath his intriguing dance, her eyes trailing the calligraphy. _…and they danced and sang into the wee hours of night, awaiting the words of their Queen. For what no one knew was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl and needed but a wish to take her away…_

"Goblins and wishes," Evelyn scoffed. "Oddest children's book ever." She checked for an author's name, still not ruling out Stephen King, but found none. _Yeah, there wouldn't be would there?_ _Cursed books write themselves, I'd imagine._

A crackling log slipped suddenly out of place, sending embers into the air. She watched the fire dance and lick at the fallen wood. Over the long lonely years there had been plenty to wish for, but now she couldn't recall what. Unspoken wishes slipped from her mind like shifting flames. Funny that.

"What _would_ I wish for? Cats, perhaps. A barrel of cats. With bells on. No, I'd probably want owls to be extinct." She didn't much like the idea of cats, now that she got right down to it. Too much furniture to be scratched. And they were dreadful to curtains. Fur everywhere…

"I wish…_no._ What is this, primary school?"

Unbeknownst to her, several pairs of eyes stared at the scene from their odd vantage point, a round crystal catching the light as it passed between craggy hands and fingernails. The ugliest of the voyeuristic little beasts reached out and grasped the ball as if his prized possession, taking it from an unsuspecting young goblin.

"This here is _mine,_" its coarse voice declared triumphantly, much to the chagrin of the group as a whole. Excitement flowed and ebbed like the tide. Several little creatures moaned outright. "Hush! You had your turn. And besides, she's going to say it!"

"Say what?"

"Shut it!"

"_You_ shut it!"

"Both of you shut it."

"I can't see!"

"Your eyes is _closed_, is why!"

"_Listen,_" the first of the goblins rose above the current. "She's going to say the words, just wait!"

With a knotty little hand he balanced the oversized horned hat on his head and expertly wiped his runny nose. All eyes anxiously centred themselves upon the woman within the crystal ball he held. Nothing happened. After a moment, a particularly rat-faced goblin sounded his screeching dismay.

"She ain't gonna say it."

"She _will_, alright! Jus' takes time, it does."

Back in her bedroom, Evelyn stifled the flames. She closed the damper a bit and poked at a dying log. Her eyes drifted to the open book once more, eliciting a sigh. The man on the page looked so happy in his queer dance, a strange contrast to her situation. So content to be the King of Goblins, whatever that meant. Surrounded by magic and all the useless things a child would dream about. This was why she had no need for children's books. There was no such thing as magic. She'd given up believing in that rubbish at fifteen.

It was certainly not magic which caused her to steal from a dead woman. _Curses aren't magic, right? No, doesn't count._

Just seeing his smiling face made her feel suddenly a lot older. _You wouldn't be smiling if you knew I'd pinched your book like a common criminal. Maybe I could wish to have never found this thing._

"Wishes, indeed." She frowned.

Between owls and unloving aunts, the woman hadn't really any reason to smile in a long time. Losing both parents tends to make one bitter. Add to the mix a cursed book and a possibly bruised bum and you could just about count the remaining threads of hope she had left for smiling on one hand.

With eyes that looked far too much like her late aunt's, Evelyn surveyed the logs as they cooled from red to black. "I suppose asking for a better life would be right out."

It was getting rather windy outside. The storm had picked up. Through the chimney she could feel the sudden shift in weather, the heat of her fireplace rapidly replaced by a draft. With another deep frown, she closed the glass doors that separated her from the firebox and replaced the poker in its iron home.

Branches outside scratched furiously upon the windowsill. With all the noise she wasn't sure how well she'd sleep tonight, but it was getting rather late and she was still a bit jetlagged. A good time as any to retire.

The woman hung up her robe and climbed into the comfort of her sheets and duvet.

A strong gust of wind hit the window, and with mindboggling accuracy which wasn't likely to ever be duplicated, managed to unhook its lock, sending curtains flying as the glass swung inward. In a tumble of blanket and disbelief Evelyn dashed madly to close it, snow from the inclement weather swirling inside. She shielded her face as the flakes assaulted her. Behind her, the book flapped furiously in the breeze, a small note previously unseen becoming untucked from its home and flinging onto the floor. Finally, the woman managed to shut the window against the turbulent air and lock it securely into place.

"God," she breathed, replacing her robe against the drop in temperature. Had that really just happened? She checked the frame to make sure nothing was broken. How did it manage to open? It was truly inconceivable odds. "What is _with_ today? You'd think the whole world had gone mad."

Smoothing down her unruly hair, she tried to salvage her ruined bedspread as best as she could, tucking in the corners. The effect was something akin to neat, if she squinted a bit and kept an open mind. Evelyn made to disrobe when something caught her eye.

"What's that then?"

She bent and picked up the parchment, turning it over in her hands. With a start, the woman gasped and just about threw the thing. Her name was written upon the letter. All the colour drained from her face as she dared another glance into her mirror, chancing her aunt's wrath. How in the world could she have known Evelyn would take this book? _Inconceivable!_

_Ha, Princess Bride. You dork._

The handwriting was extravagant and slanted. For the life of her she couldn't recall what her aunt's looked like, but surely it would have been hers. Who else's could it be? The woman flipped on the lamp and sat upon her bed, thoroughly transfixed, fingers nervously clasping the note. A note _beyond the grave._

The howling wind outside seemed to be aroused at the notion. Shadows danced on the ceiling, ghastly and distorted. This would be the makings of a great scary movie, she suddenly realised. _Bet Stephen King would love it._ _Quiet, brain._

The practical side of her said to read it and not worry. The superstitious side said _Run, fool, run!_

In the end curiosity trumped potential peril and she opened the ominous note with what she thought had been due reverence…

And then released the breath she'd been holding. She was in fact, rather disappointed. And confused. So utterly confused.

_My Dearest Evelyn,_

_Within your hands you hold the key to my very soul. Ask me for your dreams and you shall have them. Wish it of me and I will be slave only to you. _

_I await your words, my dear. For without a wish the Goblin King moves the stars for no one…_

Evelyn stopped reading and promptly refolded the sheet of parchment, stunned. She'd heard that her aunt was mad in her dying days but this note settled it. Goblin Kings and stars and all that nonsense. It sounded more like an unrequited love letter than correspondence from an aunt. Positively _mad._ It was a wonder anyone had allowed that woman pen and ink in the first place. She couldn't make heads or tails of that letter. It was creeping her out the more she thought about it.

Evelyn stood and discarded the paper on her vanity. The superstitious part of her was loath to throw it in the bin, just _in case_.

She should have known not to read it. How foolish she'd been to think it anything more than blubbering nonsense. As if her aunt had been…clairvoyant or something. _Evey, you are going mad. If only you hadn't taken that bloody book, you could have lived without knowing your aunt had a sick crush on you. Or, well, whatever it had been. _

Tired eyes darted to the book, whose pages had flipped to a new drawing during the fight with her window.

The Goblin King was dancing with a girl in a marvellous ball gown, with masked onlookers watching their progress. The scene looked so inviting. Like a page stolen from a dream. A stolen dream in a stolen book. She smoothed his painted face with a finger. _What did Aunt Sarah mean when she said he moved the stars for no one..._?

_That old bat was delirious and possibly a little rape-y, _an irksome voice reminded in the back of her head. _Aunt Sarah had dementia, remember? There is no Goblin King, get a grip. What you _should _be worried about is sending her that bikini-clad picture of you when you took holiday in the Virgin Islands a few years back. _

Her naughty brain dipped a toe in the pool of imagination, thinking about how her aunt had taken that picture.

_Bloody hell, can't unsee. Can't unsee._

Evelyn sat on her bed, heaving a sigh. So many dreadful things had come about due to stealing this book. Now she was actually trying to decode a message in a bizarre letter! _What _did_ it mean, anyway? Blast! Stop it! Can't unsee…_

The man on the page leered at her inner turmoil as he turned his female companion, frozen in their beautiful dance. He was unlike anything she'd ever seen. Even for a drawing, he captivated her. For just a moment the woman felt her heart skip a beat.

_I could maybe wish…_

"This is madness," she let the book fall to her bed, doing likewise, looking up at the canopy above. She was frustrated but couldn't decide why. So much was wrong with the world. So much was wrong with her.

"There's no such thing as a Goblin King. Gods, why did I read that letter? Bloody Aunt Sarah. Bloody book." As if blaming a book somehow took blame off her. Or distracted from her aunt's incestuous intentions. "Why'd I have to go and steal the damn thing…?"

Halfheartedly she grabbed the offending article and held it above her reclined form, letting the pages fall naturally open. It was here today's problems, and what she could only assume would amount to several therapy sessions, had begun. What was so special about this old book, anyway? Her hand smoothed out a page and another scene was hers to behold, one of the Goblin King offering up a round, crystalline gem. The words on this page were few but striking.

…_It's a crystal. Nothing more. But if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams…._

"Show me my dreams?" Evelyn whispered aloud to no one in particular, quite unaware of the great hubbub such dangerously tempting words were causing elsewhere. Her eyes clouded. "More like nightmares. I wish I hadn't sent her that photo…_oh dear God_—"

_Bloody hell, that bikini had been really revealing,_ she remembered in a panic. _And I had a sore back from the hotel bed and bent forward a little. Damn. Damn, damn, damn! I wish I…_

Twenty pairs of red eyes widened as they gazed at her from their domain, waiting with bated breath. The time was soon approaching, they knew. The girl was just about to say it. One of the goblins cried out prematurely, only to have his head smacked by his closest brother.

"Oww, whatcha do that for?"

"She hasn't said it _yet!_"

"Quiet!"

In a great huff, the book was pulled to her chest and cradled in her arms. Aggravation screwed up her face. She gazed upon the painted smile in the book, the curious curl of his lips. He looked quite pleased. What for, Evelyn couldn't tell. But the Goblin King was certainly enjoying himself. Probably had just taken his Queen away, or whatever it was the book had said he'd do. Hogwash. All of it. As if this Goblin King could change anything, make her dreams come true, make her unsee what had been seen. Just by wishing it to be so. Just by wishing him to take her. _If it were only that easy._

His eyes seemed to beseech the reader, silently begging to hear her wish. _Such madness. You know, it might have been that picture that…made her hot for you. Just saying. What were you even trying to do, sending her that jailbait photo? Sinner._

"Damn brain! I wish…oh…_lord…_."

Twenty pairs of red eyes stared unblinking at her bedroom scene. This was it! The excitement was unbearable.

With eyes closed and brows furrowed, the woman winced at her own misfortune. Images rapidly melded together in her mind as she quickly passed through various stages of confusion, denial, alarm, and abject disgust. At one point, but it was difficult to discern when exactly, she laughed frantically at the absurdity of it all. So many images fought for dominance. One of a smiling man promising dreams was the most prominent, and so she latched on, a buoy in the sea of madness. It was perhaps because of this that the following happened. Later, much later, the woman would think to question why he, of all things, had been at the forefront of her mind given the situation. But for now, there was no stopping the inevitable.

In this fallen state she let slip words which immediately sent the goblins watching into an uproar. They braced themselves, excitement sucking the air from their lungs in anxious gasps…

"I wish that blasted Goblin King could take me from the endless torment that is my life."

There was a moment of absolute, multi-world silence. If a pin had fallen in Amsterdam you would have heard it from here.

"_That's_ not it," one goblin lamented. "Them ain't the words!"

"Ain't they though?"

The crowd as a whole glanced nervously about, shifting guilty eyes at one another. It had suddenly occurred to them that they weren't entirely sure. Weren't many wishes these days. The troops were sorely out of practice.

With brows knitted, the group fell to an earnest silence. A brave denizen of this confused collection of goblintry finally piped up:

"Eh, let's just go gets her anyway!"

A chorus of assorted agreement and chicken clucks sounded in the darkened corridor.

* * *

><p>AN

Hi there lovelies! I thought I'd release the Prologue and Chapter One on the same day to kick-start my new story. I plan on updating on Fridays unless my other life gets in the way. Sorry, I know some things have been done before. This is a truth that cannot be helped of the Fanfiction world. But hopefully you can find my story interesting enough in its own right to continue reading. Reviews are appreciated but I won't force them.

This story will have thirteen chapters. That, too, is a cliché I am proudly guilty of! Ta!


	3. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth or its characters. Life can be so cruel.

It's Only Forever

Chapter Two

_Well, that's awfully peculiar,_ she thought. _The wind stopped._

It was a sound she'd only been half-listening to anyway, merely background noise to her despair. But the sudden absence of it didn't bode well. _Actually, I don't hear anything at all out there. _Two green eyes opened with concern. The woman sat upright, leaving the forgotten book on her pillow.

"Odd..."

Evelyn went to peek outside. She half expected that blasted owl to be watching from a tree but no such creature was found. The moon was fighting a losing battle with a cloud, its light muddy in the darkness. The woman strained against the cold glass but still heard nothing.

Her nervous hands unclasped the hook, opening her window wide.

The air was cold and unnaturally still, the night silent. It was as if the world had been sucked into a vacuum. _What the what, now?_

Something scurried behind her. With a jolt, the woman jerked around, almost colliding with the windowpane. She tracked the noise like a hunter on safari. It had come from across the room near the cupboard. Her pulse quickened. She hadn't any pets, despite years of threating the purchase of cats. The glass doors of the fireplace were sealed shut so it couldn't have been a bat or bird.

Evelyn raised herself onto the balls of her feet and peered past the line of her bed. Perhaps she'd imagined it.

Another scratching flurry sounded to her right and she yelped. Flinching, she covered her mouth a bit too late.

It was important in situations like these to be as quiet as possible, lest the intruder hear you. She'd seen loads of scary movies where the victim betrayed this one Golden Rule of Survival. Silence was a virtue. The woman nodded furiously with her own good advice. She caught her reflection and went stock-still. She'd seen something dark and furry over the top of the duvet momentarily. Her toes squirmed into the carpet, afraid of what could be under the bed.

With a careful hand she reached and took the book up from her pillow, held defensively in front of her person and, after further consideration, edged a few feet away. Bare feet silently thanked her for such prudent thinking.

"Who's there?" Damn, another Golden Rule broken. For someone who'd watched so many films the woman was rubbish at this.

Outside and unbeknownst to her a bird sailed silently across the night sky, drifting past her open window. The light from her lamp flickered and cut out. Another round of scurrying erupted nearby, causing Evey to jump and curse. _So much for being quiet._ Making a face, she berated herself and took a vow of silence.

Another noise near the end of her bed broke her vow completely. Ten seconds. She'd lasted ten seconds.

A glass bottle was unceremoniously knocked over on her vanity, spilling perfume across the mahogany surface and permeating the world in _Flora by Gucci_. It pooled slowly around her tea cup and saucer, just barely missing the folded up note. The woman all but lost it. Her eyes involuntarily retraced the fancy scrawl _Evelyn_, despite having more pressing matters at hand. Something was definitely here with her in the darkness. She could hear laughter, inhuman and manic.

"A-Aunt Sarah…?" _Lord, she was mad. _

Little feet ran about the room, unseen, accompanied by more laughter. _Oh gods, please don't let it be puppets. Please don't let it be puppets. I don't ask for much, Lord. _Images right out of Dead Silence crept up in every shadowy corner, getting her Automatonophobia going. She cursed all ventriloquists, everywhere.

"Ho heee ha ha haa." The laughter getting closer. Gods, did it sound like puppets. _Shit…_

Breathing unsteadily from the overpowering gardenia fumes, the woman made a split decision and raced to her closed door. Whatever the hell it was she wouldn't be sticking around to find out.

In the mirror, quite unseen in her panic, a shadow occupying her open window suddenly transformed from bird to man. With him came the absent wind in a sudden relieved gust, flapping her curtains restlessly in the breeze. The momentary reprieve from heady perfume was welcome despite the situation.

The moon broke free finally and shown doubly bright for the effort. Spreading like tide before her was a long shadow Evelyn inherently knew to be human-shaped and worrisome. _It is a puppet, oh gods…it had to be a puppet, of all things… _Her hand dusted the knob, but breaking another Golden Rule to Survival, the girl stupidly paused. Movement behind her reflected in its polished surface. Another series of puppet giggles sent chills down her back.

Frozen in fear and crippled with morbid curiosity, Evelyn turned slowly toward its source. With the amount of Rules she was breaking, she might as well have slapped a grand on her forehead and shouted "Victim here, victim here!"

A man stood in the open outline of her window, illuminated by moonlight, cold and impressive in form. If not for the cruel line of his eyes and the wicked smile turning up his lips, she'd think him almost handsome. His hair, a right mess upon his head, was somehow oddly attractive and suitable for his chiseled face, even in its state of utter disarray. It reminded her of the eighties rock band posters her roommate had plastered upon the walls back in London during her days at uni. Her roommate had been odd, too, she remembered fondly.

She was marginally grateful he hadn't been a puppet, although not enough to relax completely.

The man had an unhealthy obsession for eyeliner and wore loads of mascara, his makeup unusual and otherworldly. It was as if his eyebrows had been trained into an exaggerated point at the corner of his eyes. Bewitched by such a man, Evelyn dropped her wayward hand from the doorknob and stood at his mercy, transfixed.

Something about his appearance caused warning bells to sound in her mind. She'd seen a similar getup before somewhere. But such a notion was highly unthinkable. _No_ one dressed like this. Not any sane person, at least.

_Well it's a good thing you're mad,_ said her rebellious brain. _Otherwise this might be awkward_.

The intruder wore a black waistcoat and trousers, oddly bedazzled with what the girl could only assume to be glitter or sequins perhaps, the promise of a white lace cravat peeking over the top of the open neckline. For all rational reasoning such a combination should have been ridiculous, out of place; but the man possessed such a dangerous animalistic gravity that Evelyn was loath to be the fashion police. Commanding all the prowess of a panther, he sleekly stepped forward, imperious and magnificent and very, very much in her bedroom.

"Who are you?" The woman tried to sound confident but the words came out a meagre thing. Damn, yet another Golden Rule broken. Never ask who the bloke _is_; for God's sake just _get out, get out, get out…_

His eyes flicked to the book she still held before her, as if a talisman to ward off evil. He smirked at her apt sense of irony.

"Oh, you know very well who I am," his voice was like liquid sex, low and seductive, raising the hair on the back of her neck. He merely grinned, self-satisfied in her fluster. "You called me after all."

The girl was at a loss. She couldn't think of anything suitable to say. "Did not" lacked finesse, and "Are you effing mad?" seemed rather redundant given the circumstances. She settled for a barely coherent "But I haven't rang anyone" and deflated entirely. He took another step toward her.

Evelyn eyed his very eccentric attire and something clicked.

She looked up sharply. "Wait, I get it. You're from one of those programmes on _The Beeb_, aren't you?" She leaned in conspiratorially. "Are you…are you _pranking_ me? _Right, _right, right_. _I've heard about this. Graham Norton send you? _Brilliant,_ you got me. Don't know how you managed to cut off the sound or make those little running noises about the room, but it was a pretty good fright. How'd you know I didn't like puppets? No, never mind. I kind of like the mystery.

"Where's the hidden camera, then?"

The Goblin King watched dully as she moved a few books about on a shelf and then checked beneath the bed. She'd tucked _his_ book under a careless arm. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it being so abused. She was positively ruining his big entrance, either way.

"I…"He frowned when she opened the cupboard, no longer the least bit intimidated by his presence. The man tried for dignified. "I am not from this…_Beeble_ of which you speak. I am King of the Goblins."

"Yes, yes," she snorted, not listening. She checked round the pillows. "Naturally. Come on then, where is it? You lot sneak in while I was in the states? It was a good joke but _really_," Evelyn paused and lowered the sheet in her hand. Words finally had caught up to her brain. "Wait, what did you just say?"

"I am the Goblin King." He intoned darkly, and enjoyed the pang of recognition that fluttered past her eyes. "And you have called me here."

_Nah, it couldn't be. That's nonsense._ Evelyn squared her shoulders despite her wobbly knees and shaky hands. The weight of a certain book begged for attention where it sat under her arm. Reluctantly she untucked it and held it before her, a weapon once more. "How'd you know about that?"

An eyebrow raised itself gracefully on his beautiful face. His eyes drifted from book to girl. The woman followed his gaze submissively, lost, and then righted herself. What was she even thinking!

"Don't," she finally breathed. Her green eyes shot up in accusation. "There's no such thing as a Goblin King. Don't be daft. It's just a children's story."

"Is it?" He countered, oddly pleased. "I assure you I'm as real as the book you hold, though it is foolish to think it your salvation. It is, after all, the catalyst to my being here. Oh, and it's not cursed, love. It's merely enchanted."

Nonplussed, she opened her mouth and closed it again. The book was lowered lamely. A soft _plop _was heard when it finally connected with carpet.

The man took another step toward her, equine legs muscular and well-defined beneath his skintight trousers. The woman had been inching away from him without realizing, her back now firmly pressed against the closed door. The sudden shock of cold wood caused her to gasp. The tiny sound in the darkness was amusing to his ears. Another smirk, menacing and suggestive, lit up his eyes.

"What do you want?" She whimpered, hating herself. She'd taken the Rule Book and thrown it out the window completely. Survival was something that happened to _other _people.

The man looked positively victorious, the cat who caught the canary. He stopped just short of her vanity, his reflected self just as threatening as the real thing. He threw a toothy grin.

"It's what _you_ want, precious. It was your wish, after all."

_This is nonsense,_ her mind screamed. She instinctively looked away, eyes landing on the iron poker. It was across the room, maybe twelve or so feet. Was she confident enough to go for it? The man didn't seem to notice her inner conflict, inclining his head to take a proper look at her. His eyes were unwavering and serious, drinking her in. He seemed to like what he was looking at.

"My wish?" Stall him. _Stall him._ She slid slowly past the doorknob and towards the fireplace, keeping her eyes glued to his. "Remind me, what was that, exactly?"

His curt laugh was one of disbelief. "To be taken away of course. Far from the 'endless torment that is your life', as you most eloquently put it." He made a grand gesture with a graceful hand, presumably to indicate the room as a whole, but his tone suggested far more than the eye could see. He leveled his gaze upon her and smiled. "I do appreciate your penchant for the theatrics. They may very well rival my own, in fact."

"Did I wish that?" She shuffled closer to her goal, looking sweetly up at him. About five feet left. "And just what, uh, does that entail? Exactly?"

"Evelyn," he assured, his tone taking a spry turn for the worst. "You needn't worry. _It's only forever_," The Goblin King grinned devilishly to himself right then, familiar words floating to the tip of his tongue. They were oddly befitting he had to admit, given the situation. "Not long at all."

The woman surreptitiously reached for the weapon, only to find it suddenly missing. Her hand flittered about the empty spot like a manic butterfly. Her audible dismay was met by his satisfactory hum. She wheeled around sheepishly.

"Not bad," he commented, clearly impressed. The man studied the iron rod in his hand with great attention. He smacked it smartly in his hand a few times, enjoying the weight. "Although, I much prefer my riding crop."

"Bollocks."

His eyes became hard. The poker morphed into a snake, slithering itself about his arm and curling along a gloved hand. The man gave a sinister scowl, not at all enjoying the parallel their meeting had taken to another, years ago. It was enough to put the fear of God back in her. She suddenly had the sinking feeling she'd be better off with the puppets.

"I do hope you don't intend to defy me. It won't end well, I'm afraid."

"Oh? No!" She sputtered, entertaining several farfetched exit strategies that never seemed to quite pan out in her mind. "What, you mean that? Nah, wouldn't dream of it. Room's a bit cold, is all. Felt a little draft. Thought I'd…make a fire…?"

In an instant she watched her recently-snaked salvation disappear into midair. As if by…as if by...oh, who was she kidding? It was magic. Bloody effing _magic._ The woman groaned. She'd been afraid of that.

Irritated, the man snapped his fingers. With a hissing rupture of air the fireplace roared to life behind her. Evelyn all but fell trying to put distance between the sudden heat and her backside. Stunned, she turned to him. His eyes remained cruel but his voice once again seemed to be filled with wicked humour.

"Better? Come now, Evelyn. There's so much to do, so much to see. Let's not waste time, dear one."

"Wait." Now or never she supposed. He leveled a most forbidding look upon the foolish girl. It made her squirm. "I uh, just wait a second, would you? I have to think."

"Give up this life, Evelyn. There's nothing left for you. This is a life of useless promises and unanswered dreams. Was it not your words that proclaimed it an endless torment? I can offer you your dreams. I alone can take you away from all this."

"Any use calling for help?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Ah. And, wish substitutions _are_…_?_"

"Impossible."

She nodded, dazed. Right, that'd be too simple. She eyed him weakly. He obviously did not enjoy waiting, looking for all the world a petulant child denied his toy.

Gods, she'd gone mad. Here she was, standing in her bedroom in just a thin robe and knickers, arguing with some magical excuse for a Whitesnake video. Her would-be kidnapper at that! Hoo boy, Aunt Sarah would no longer be the crazy one in the family after tonight. In the course of less than an hour Evelyn had seemingly plunged headfirst into madness. What was in that tea anyway? She was hallucinating, surely.

With mounting dread she met his eyes, teetering on the edge of sanity.

"And I suppose taking the wish back is right out?"

"What's said is said," The Goblin King declared gravely, his word law. A twinge of familiarity soured his smile.

Evelyn winced. Yes, she'd been afraid of that, too. Hallucinations thinking themselves real and all. Earl Grey it had been, she recalled fondly. Probably gone bad.

"But you see I simply didn't m–"

"What? Didn't mean it? No, they never do, do they? I'm afraid it's far too late for that now. What's _said_ is _said._" He insisted. The man posed victoriously. "You were in possession of the book and made a wish. I'm bound to it, just as you are bound to me now."

_The book? Oh, right. The book you stole from a dead woman. Good job, Evey._

She threw a nasty look at it where it lay on the floor.

"Bloody Aunt Sarah and her bloody book."

"Oh, but you do look so very much like her, don't you? Too much, I admit."

When had he got so close to her? She'd barely caught his whisper. This strange man's whole being had shifted tone somehow, as if haunted. A powerful look of torment came upon his face, almost making the woman feel sorry for him. Almost. He mumbled something about pale jewels and valentine _something or others_ which made her blush furiously. Evelyn scuttled a few inches away with unladylike grace taking advantage of his sudden vulnerability, practically digging the mantle into her back. Cornered. She was cornered. Any closer and there'd be no stopping him.

She suddenly furrowed her brow. A pressing matter had just made itself uncomfortably clear.

Any closer and she'd have a flambéed _arse, _is what she'd have. The fireplace was relentless. Was her robe smoking?

As quickly as the emotion had come it was gone from him. Like flipping a light switch. He righted himself and his jaunty words surprised the woman, clearly in the throes of fight or flight response tactics and the very real possibility of a caramelized bum. She'd missed what he'd said completely and looked stupidly up at him.

"Come again?"

Tears welled up in her eyes. So hot. So _hot!_ She made a series of faces, each worse off than the last, in an attempt to beat the heat. She scanned the portion of room near the open window and wistfully remembered winter. The Goblin King gave a vexed sigh and guided her away with a gloved hand, unimpressed at her apparent disregard for comfort. The pair navigated back toward the bed. As an afterthought he took up the book and the all but forgotten parchment and deposited them in the folds of his coat.

"Why are all the women in your family so incurably stubborn? Really, precious girl, you must at least _try_ to keep yourself from harm's way. I can't have my future queen searing into a roast gammon, now can I?"

"Sure, what with Christmas round the corner and all," She agreed weakly, or rather, disagreed. It was hard to tell. Her eyes screwed up thinking about it.

She realized they were passing the vanity and panicked.

"Look it, I'm not sure who you are or why you look like that chap from _Poison_, but I'm quite certain I shouldn't be going wherever it is wish me to be going." At the word _"wish"_, the woman quickly stilled the look of gratification on his face with a hand and amended her folly. "Wherever it is you _want_ me to be going. _Want._

"Now, if you would kindly unhand me…_oh, shit._"

The Goblin King had expertly piloted her towards the window during her adorably naive, if not utterly misguided, attempt to send him off. Whatever Evelyn had been gearing up to say was instantly lost. Outside, where all common sense screamed winter _should_ be, was now home to a strange, almost Martian sunbaked landscape right out of the pages of Dune. She half expected those goons from Mad Max to come screeching up on their tricked out death bikes. Or the sandworms from Beetlejuice to come exploding up like breeching whales.

The juxtaposition was so bizarre, in fact, that she peered about waiting for someone from dressing props to run up and finish…pouring all the sand…

A breeze reminiscent of long lazy summers and not enough suntan lotion consumed her, raising a look of disbelief. It was hard to fake such realistic seasonal evidence. Evelyn was pretty sure she attempted speaking at one point but failed miserably. For his part the Goblin King stood back with a bemused smile and let his queen take in her new kingdom.

That nagging voice in the back of her mind chose this moment to be a prat. _Hey, what do you know? There really _is_ a labyrinth._

"Uhh…?"

The man smugly addressed his ward, ignoring her obvious panic. "We will live _there_, in my castle. Beyond the Goblin city. And _you,_ my dear Evelyn, you will be my queen. Speechless, aren't you? It's to be expected."

Evelyn turned to deny such ludicrous notions and suddenly she was standing right smack in the middle of desert terrain, crisp plants battered by the red sun scratching at her dressing gown. The dry heat was terrible. The odor, worse. The woman wildly looked up and all around her. The alien sky was a painting of terra cotta and mud, so unlike the world she'd known. Her bedroom was nowhere to be found.

"What the bloody hell have you done?"

The Goblin King grinned like a jackal, teeth showing. "Why, I've brought you home. Do you like it, Evelyn? My labyrinth? Does it suit you?"

"It's positively dreadful," she stated, feeling faint. Her head began to hurt. Had someone punched her behind the eye? "It's nothing but a barren wasteland."

"Exactly! What better way to rule than with despair?"

He practically pranced ahead, oblivious to her open mouthed dismay. He settled himself regally amongst a thorn bush, long since dead. His long hair flapped in the foul wind. "You _do_ like it, don't you? I knew you would."

The girl didn't move. She held her robe about her person, preserving her dignity despite the breeze and the noisome stench it wafted nearer. Something had died not too long ago, perhaps, or was in the process of emptying its bowels. The wind from the north carried the distinct possibility of decaying flesh and wretched swampland. Evelyn frowned. To her left, some ten yards away, a rather optimistic spider with fur on had decided today was the day it would move a small boulder across the open sand. Why, who knew. What made sense anymore? This was a land of insanity.

The woman gave it a rather long stare and then, without a word, turned and walked away.

The Goblin King faltered.

"Where are you going? The castle is _this_ way, darling."

"Nope."

"Precious," he reasoned. This was not part of the plan. He trailed after the woman for a moment in spite of himself, looking all the worse for it. Anger flaring, the man affixed his disobedient feet upon the ground and straightened into a most dignified glare. He crossed his arms furiously. "Come back, Evelyn. You won't get anywhere going that way."

"Anywhere is better than here."

She wandered up the steep hill and let out a bleat of dismay at the top. Sand, for miles. All of it, nothing but sand. Ruddy, scorched sand. There was literally nowhere else to go. Behind her she heard his arrogant cluck and cursed.

"You were saying? Don't try to fight it, my dear. You're no match for my magic."

"Damn." She cursed again. Her eyes did a double take. _Holy Pete, was that a sandworm? Egad, I think it was! _She really thought it might be. No telling which was worse, really. The worm or the wanker. Evelyn glowered at the Goblin King, making her decision.

"Now take my hand." He spoke as if talking to a child. The abject fury on her face only egged him on. "Let's not waste time, precious."

"Don't you go getting any funny ideas," she protested, albeit weakly. He was more than shocked to have his hand smacked away but the novelty of it stopped him from reprimanding her. He'd rather liked it. "Take me home right now, I mean it."

"Darling, you _are _home."

The woman idly watched that same spider, pushing that bleeding boulder ever so slowly and to no purpose. Its futile mission mirrored her own. Evelyn did everything she could to suppress a sob from escaping her throat.

"This is such nonsense," she finally said. Her kidnapper wore a small smile about his mouth. "I don't believe you for a second, you know. This is a dream or something. A hallucination. That tea must have rotted.

"You are mad if you think I won't wake up and be right back in my bedroom. That a bloody wish has the power to change someone's life! No, it's nonsense. All of it. I've decided. I mean, it's so utterly impossible that I'm embarrassed for you.

"You sound like you're from southeast London, anyway. Bromley, is it? Why pretend you're from some _fairy_ kingdom when you're clearly not?"

The woman furiously rounded on him, ignoring his sulky correction of '_Goblins_, not fairies. Fairies are little nippy pests that terrorize the garden'_,_ and crossed her arms mid-rant.

"I don't even_ believe _in bloody magic_! _And neither should you, mate. There's no such thing."

"You said it, sister." Agreed the spider as it passed. The woman had the good sense to pale.

The Goblin King regarded her for a long moment and then closed the distance between them. She didn't look until he gently spoke, so low she barely heard it. His eyes remained distant, as if looking at something far away. "A wish, spoken even in a moment of despair, is still a wish. I'm bound to it. And so are you, I'm afraid."

His strange eyes shifted onto hers for an instant, two heterochromic pools of inhuman intensity, eyes which had seen eternity now content to look through her very soul. The odd colouration made her turn away, aghast.

"You won't get away with this, you know," said Evelyn quietly. She thought for a moment and amended, "Well, you probably _will _actually. But you'll regret it, someday. Or feel pretty bad, at least. Maybe miss a meal from mild indigestion –"

The woman stopped talking.

What was the use of standing out here without options? She squinted up at the blazing sun, using a hand to shield her eyes. Some sort of birdlike creature hung low in the Martian sky, circling over her head. Its screeching cry echoed across the dead land like a bad cliché. Probably would love to have her as a meal, Evelyn thought bitterly. Curse her awful luck.

The woman frowned at her only choice, clad in black and sequins and standing a few inches away. He quietly observed her, those bizarre eyes unblinking.

After a moment he again offered her salvation from this horrible setting. She took his hand distrustfully.

"_Fine._ But this changes nothing."

"So we shall see."

With a predatory grin, the Goblin King took hold of his unwilling Queen and faded instantly into nothingness.

* * *

><p>AN

So I know it isn't Friday but I finished way early and thought I'd add another chapter! Surprise!

I also wanted to address something one reviewer brought up about Evey thinking her Aunt Sarah was perverted.

I'd like to go ahead and reassure my audience that this is a misunderstanding Evelyn had that will eventually be corrected as the story wears on. You'll notice I don't dwell on it much past the initial event. It's rather unimportant in the long run, merely a mild plot point to serve as foundation for later development. I do apologise if anyone took offense. It wasn't the intention. Nor do I want to tarnish my story with something that could be taken as…well, rather icky.

I am rather pleasantly surprised by the amount of feedback I've received. Thank you to everyone who commented! It's very kind of you! I appreciate even constructive criticism and will do my best to answer any concerns you have.

Please continue to give my story a chance. I'll try not to disappoint. Be warned that _Something Witty This Way Comes_. There are loads more instances of uncomfortable confusion, crazy interactions, and reluctant romance in store. This definitely isn't your typical Jareth romance flick :D


	4. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth or its characters. Life can be so cruel.

It's Only Forever

Chapter Three

"My _God," _Evelyn breathed, taking it all in. "This place…is a sty."

The woman stood agape in the shadow of an arched doorway, baffled by how much a castle could resemble a barn. There was rubbish everywhere. Pots overturned, random articles of clothing lying in chaos about the stone floor. Partially eaten foodstuffs littered almost every surface. Cobwebs decorated the flying buttresses, the sconces, and the random oversized chains draped over the walls. Flies buzzed in the fetid air. There were stains! And slimy puddles! She gloomily eyed a particularly unpleasant one on the ashlar wall nearby. It looked suspiciously like spoilt milk. Smelled like it, too.

"Do pigs live here?"

"Goblins, actually."

The man swept past her and perched upon his circular throne, a smirk evident on his beautiful face. He draped one sculpted leg over the edge of the chair languidly, a regal wrist suspending his chin. Something belched in a corner. He appeared not to have heard it.

"Welcome home," he said grandly, while his eyes remained unkind.

Evelyn was stunned. A black chicken clucked aimlessly across her path, oblivious to the dangers of being trod on. She watched it peck at the floor. _Good God, it really _is _a barn._ "Really? Here? You live _here?_"

"_We_ live here, pet." He corrected with a lazy hand. The man summoned a few crystals and rotated them restlessly in his palm.

The Goblin King's eyes shifted to his newest toy and he frowned, ever so slightly. Maybe he could get her to fetch his slippers later. He supposed she'd chew them less than his goblins would. "This place is your home as well now."

"This _place_ is disgusting. Oh lord, I smell goats. Are there goats? _Ugh_ –" She held a hand to her nose, appalled. Something damp was festering here, perhaps in the next room over. It gave the distinct boggy impression of a petting zoo. "How can you stand living in such a hole?"

He sniffed elegantly. "I suppose it _could_ use a good…_dusting_."

"Or some petrol and a match," she muttered. If he'd heard her at all, it hadn't affected him. She watched him spin the crystals in his hand indifferently. They caught the light. "Do you really expect me to live here?"

"You did wish for me to take you, did you not?"

"Well, _yes,_ but I didn't imagine it would be to _here_, of all places. You are a _king_, aren't you?"

"I am. And?"

"And…_I don't know._ The book made things look so… well, charming. Obviously the artist was nearsighted, drunk, and half-mad with old age. Nothing else could explain how wrong he'd got it.

"Why, it's practically entrapment," his little wife bemoaned regally, looking as sour as the milk puddle. "The old Bait-and-Switch. Don't suppose wishes have a money-back guarantee, do they? This was definitely not in the description."

The man didn't look amused. Evelyn stared at the light reflected in his crystals. How light could be made to look formidable, she didn't know. But the man was a natural at it.

"You will find that most things are not what they appear to be, here in the Underground. This castle and the Labyrinth beyond its walls were birthed from the worst kind of magic. They obey only me." He peered at her with all the warmth of a serpent, wrapped possessively around his throne. "This world can be both welcoming and treacherous, just as I can be. I suggest you learn quickly what is expected of a Goblin Queen."

"Yes, about that. What _is _expected of a 'Goblin Queen', anyway? The wish didn't exactly come with a manual, you know. I'd like to know what exactly you intend for me to do here." _In this hovel_, she meant to add but decided against it. She noticed the rising ire in his eyes and didn't much care to find out just how treacherous he could actually be, to borrow his term.

"You would do wise to fear me, do as I say. Love me…and –"

All too quickly did the man realise he'd said something eerily similar, decades ago. The crystals stopped spinning at once. Such words had been spoken as a last effort then, the desperation of a lonely man, a finale to the misguided attempt at taming a girl so very much like the one before him now. No doubt they'd have the same effect.

With uncharacteristic pause the man faltered and shifted topics, the fire in his eyes subsiding.

"I suggest you settle in. After all, this is your home now, and will be, for a very long time." The crystals vanished along with any hope of rebuttal.

Exasperated, she crossed out of the room. To where, it didn't matter. Evelyn just didn't want to be _here._ Unfortunately the next room was not much better than the first. Another set of chickens decorated the dirty floor, clucking their disapproval at the intrusion. Three furry heads popped up from behind an outcrop of rock near the wall, beady eyes staring daggers. They laughed with inhuman glee at her terror.

Taking a step backwards, Evelyn's bare feet squelched into something sticky. She panicked and tripped herself up. And then the world went all topsy-turvy and goblin-covered.

From the comfort of his throne, the Goblin King listened to her high pitched screeching. It had taken all of five seconds, a new record. Two seconds later, the man couldn't help the amused smirk when his newly beloved marched irately into view, trailing chickens. She was sporting a rather shambolic hairdo. He suddenly found his riding crop very interesting.

"That's it! Wish or no wish I'd have to be daft to stay here with these, these…_beasties!_ This place isn't fit for human life."

"Darling, I'm afraid you're just going to have to learn to live with it. What's said –"

"—is said," She finished, irritably. The woman picked black feathers from the mop which was her hair and worked to free the strange passenger still attached to a leg. The goblin yelped and lurched away. "Yes I remember, thank you."

"It isn't all bad. Give it time. It will…_grow_ on you."

"It's practically _condemned. _I don't doubt it's growing _something._" She threw another feather.

The man leaned back in his chair, scratching at his clavicle where the lace touched. "You say that as if it's dreadful."

To think she'd left her cottage for this…this…_pigpen palace. _Evelyn squared her shoulders and faced her kidnapper, blowing a matted knot of hair from her beautiful face. The goblin chose this moment to bravely clamp back onto her leg, eliciting a series of unintelligible screams. With a regal grace that made the Goblin King marginally proud, the woman promptly kicked the beastie free and gave it the one-fingered salute.

"Isn't there some way to take the wish back? An appeal process? Something?"

The Goblin King regarded her for a long moment. He didn't want to say. The man should have known she'd be just as bullheaded as the last Williams girl to come to his castle, matured or not, and just as lovely. So very, very lovely. Even with her current hairdo. Casting a most indignant glance, he did what any respectable gent would do in his situation. He lied out his teeth.

"Afraid not, love."

"So why me? Honestly, shouldn't you want someone who…you know, _wants_ to be here?"

"And what fun would that be?"

The woman cocked a brow at the admission.

"So what now?" She eyed the little creeper inching closer to her leg, ready to latch on again. The beastie seemed to notice her impending rage for it panicked and wobbled away. "Since there is apparently no changing this life sentence of mine, what do you propose we do now? I very much doubt we'll be taking an afternoon tea in the garden."

The Goblin King was at a loss for words. Blast if he knew. He'd never made it this far.

He considered that fact with a touch of resentment. Oh, it was quite easy to just throw some sequins and sing of love when his conquest was unobtainable. But to actually go about it once there was a woman at his mercy…. The man found himself suddenly rather inexperienced. If only Sarah hadn't been so determined to break his heart…

"Can I at least have some proper clothes?" That girl was talking again. His head snapped up. When had he drifted off? "I can't very well go around in nothing but my knickers, can I?"

"Can't you?" He looked vaguely uncomfortable.

Evelyn threw him a sour look. "No."

"Very well."

In an instant her robe was replaced by a pink confectionary mess of crinoline right out of some eighties fairytale. The woman felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs and she sputtered, coughing. She fought at a bit of wayward fabric which was somehow inexplicably in her face. After a frightening moment awash with glitter she settled down into humiliated silence, aware that the man was watching her intently.

Evelyn stared at herself in horror. "Good lord, I look like an idiot."

"I think it rather suits you."

"I can't barely move my arms, for all the puffed sleeves!"

"Yes, but the cut is very flattering."

She deflated. "I look like an overgrown Peep."

The Goblin King stood in one fluid movement, fading out and in to stand before her, sweeping the woman up into a graceful waltz. She was light on her feet despite the twenty pounds of ball gown. They danced almost a full rotation before she came to her senses.

"Did you nick this off Glinda the Good Witch?"

"Who?" He hummed, not even remotely listening. He so loved to dance. Perhaps if he danced long enough he'd figure out what his next move should be.

Evelyn allowed him to turn her, despite the inkling she should probably protest. All things considered she was taking this whole dire situation, including their close proximity and the layers of pleated fabric, rather in stride. It would be lying to say the Goblin King hadn't noticed. He looked down in appreciation, swaying her possessively in time with the music in his head. Yes, he certainly agreed with marital life.

"You know, when I asked for clothes, I had meant something a bit less… Disney princess. Ever hear of a blouse and leggings?" The woman said mildly and then checked herself, considering whose company she was currently in. "Well, I suppose you have."

"Mmm," The man dipped her suddenly, enjoying the ample view of creamy skin it yielded about her feathered bodice. He still wasn't listening. Humans and their constant need for conversation. Didn't they ever tire of it? Her endless chatter was keeping him from thinking.

The man skillfully guided Evelyn around the room, spinning his lovely jewel so that the light caught the glitter on her dress and in her hair. So beautiful. And so utterly his. He practically growled with his sudden newfound power over her. She was helpless to his every whim. Just the way he liked them.

Several goblins poked up their heads to watch the grand display. They cackled approvingly as the couple drifted past. A few scratched their flea-bitten manes in awe of their new queen and wondered how long such an arrangement would last. At least one was still industrially at work trying to catch her leg, testing out the mechanics of latching onto yards of moving crinoline.

The man had yet to come up with any reasonable plan beyond dancing. Would he court her? That's what ladies fancied these days, wasn't it? A good _courting_. Fine, yes, that sounded well enough. But where did that leave him exactly? If he wanted to be honest with himself the man really needn't do a thing. Technically the girl was already his, and damn if he'd explain about the Labyrinth's trials. For all she knew there was no going back from her wish.

But looking at this frail thing in his arms made him weak. He battled with the unfamiliar urge to make someone else happy. It was a rather unpleasant itchy feeling, he decided.

None of his usual tactics seemed appropriate given the current situation. Poisoned peaches and hallucinogens would probably not be the way to go, as fun as they were. A dip in the Bog would certainly be _right out_. There'd be no living with her after that.

It was getting uncomfortably obvious to him that he hadn't the foggiest clue as how to win a lady over without employing some sort of devious, magical scheme. It dawned on him that he was, in fact, an absolute beginner at love. Such knowledge was very distressing. He was the Goblin King! How could he have no experience with love?

_Everyone _loved him. Or else they were tortured. Repeatedly. And sent to the Bog for good measure. It usually was so simple.

He felt the proverbial rug had been pulled out from under him. It was unprecedented, not knowing how to proceed. This woman practically loathed him. That in itself would not be terrible. The man rather liked the chase. But part of him, albeit a very small part which was rather dusty, imagined that to live successfully with someone for eternity meant appealing to their good nature.

He cocked a brow surreptitiously at her when he felt she was distracted. _But then again…_ He yielded to no man. _Wo_man. Wife._ Servant…? _Love was just so confusing. He was operating out of his usual realm of expertise here.

The Goblin King studied the curve of her chin, the delicate line of her nose. Her lips were attractive when she wasn't ranting on about _something or other_. And her cheekbones were high and refined. She was so very beautiful the man wanted to laugh and cry just knowing that she was his The only negative was that this girl did look so very much like Sarah. A little taller than Sarah, perhaps. Thinner. Older. She certainly scowled more. But the similarities were there, and looking at her was to look back on his own failures.

Her black eyelashes fluttered and he looked away abruptly, not wishing to be caught staring. She definitely made him weak. He couldn't get around it. He'd have to court her. Damn it to hell.

An image of throwing her into an oubliette until she liked him popped into his mind. It took a lot of convincing to rule it out.

"…your name."

The Goblin King stopped dancing and looked down at her, puzzled. He was vaguely aware she'd been talking the entire time, however much he'd not been listening. The last admission from his queen had just about managed to intrude on his inner monologue. He'd heard the sound of her voice but did not comprehend the meaning. His brain took on the difficult task of deciphering jumbled words into something resembling a sentence.

Evelyn looked expectantly up at him. And then she looked rather cross. _There's that scowl again._

"Right," the woman removed herself from his embrace. "I'm not surprised. I would very much like a different set of clothes now. Something _not_ from the vault of prom nightmares, if you'd please."

In the end she'd settled for a rather medieval-looking tunic bedazzled in his usual way, with glitter and sequins on. The pleather leggings were completely unreasonable and suspiciously shiny. The boots went up to her knee. And Evelyn still had no idea why he'd accessorized her with bohemian curls and a hippie-esque headband, but she didn't much care to find out.

She'd long since stashed the unsightly thing upon the neck of one of their free-range goblins. The little beastie sashayed in front of its peers with all the pomp and circumstance of a pageant winner. Its audience promptly jumped it and ripped the headband to shreds, each taking a piece.

All in all it could have been worse, judging by the Goblin King's unfortunate love affair with 1980's glam rock.

"What _are_ you doing?" He surveyed his precious girl askance, draped upon the circular throne with dread. The man witnessed with mounting distress the erratic movements of his queen as she set about in her unusual task. He wouldn't likely have cared at all, if not for the sudden realization that she was _touching his things._

"Blast these long sleeves! What good are they but to thwart my progress?" She muttered, attempting to tie off her burden and failing miserably. With disdain she replaced the neckline of her garment, forever falling down one shoulder, for the umpteenth time. "Bugger it all."

He'd watched this strange game for several hours, at first trying his best to ignore her on principle. The great undertaking began with the removal of his Articles of Forsaken Clothing. That had slightly piqued his interest. And then the sweeping of his Ancient Cobs, which had him biting at his riding crop in horror. She'd tipped up the Great Barrel of Rotting Beer he kept for general entertainment, as drunken goblins were _hilarious_. Somewhere during the culling of Discarded Chicken Feathers and Goblin Fur did he finally snap and suppress the urge to throw her in the oubliette.

But _now,_ oh Gods, _now._ Keeping quiet was nearly impossible! She was practically _destroying_ his home.

"What are you _doing?_" He repeated, not very kindly.

"Cleaning," said Evelyn, scrubbing away at another stain.

It was a wonder she had found any supplies at all in this dump. The duster had been coated in an inch of dust. The wash bucket had film on it from washings of old left sitting, unwashed. The broom had been practically eaten through by starving mice. After she all but wrestled it out of infestation she'd discovered it a useless thing.

The woman sat back on her haunches, rubbing away sweat from her brow and picking up her worthless neckline. All this work was taking a toll on her. But oh! Did this place look so much better! All it took was a woman's touch.

And about fifteen ruined rags, ten buckets of soapy water, an unpleasantly tenacious goblin and a series of curse words that would shame a pirate, and one rather vexed chicken strapped to the end of a mouse-eaten pole.

For its part, the chicken-broom clucked disdainfully from the corner Evelyn had left it. It gave her an upside-down stare of irrefutable chicken ire.

"_Why?"_ Came the low promise of danger, rumbling like storm clouds over a turbulent sea. His eyes glossed over, ancient and terrible. His hands itched to conjure another snake just to throw at her. He knew for certain her screams would be pleasant to him now.

"This place was absolutely filthy. I may have to live here but that doesn't mean I have to live in squalor. Seeing as this is my home now, too, I am within my right to clean it. Now, if you will just move your heel..."

"You've scrubbed this room clean!"

The woman waved a soapy hand in his general direction. "You're welcome. I don't see why you're so upset. It could be worse," she said thoughtfully, "I could have made you help."

The Goblin King raised himself to an intimidating height. Several goblins squirreled away, knowing all too well what _That Look_ meant. The air practically fizzled with rage. Love of his life or not, his wife would pay. It was a pity, he decided. To bog something so beautiful.

He pointed a gloved hand at the offending woman and reared his head back, ready to crown her Queen of the Eternal Stench...

And all this was of course wasted for she had yet to turn around. He watched in horror as she wrung the water out of her soiled rag, unaffected.

"On second thought, grab me that bucket would you? This one is practically mud."

"Evelyn," He continued, slightly scandalized. "You have gone too far."

She finally leveled a rather lackluster look upon him, suds slipping down the arm she propped herself up with and onto her wasted sleeve. Were his eyes just naturally set into a scowl? "Relax, it's just a bucket. Wait until I do the washing up. That'll be a sight.

"I filled two barrels of clothing just picking up in _here._ I can't imagine what the rest of the place looks like. I doubt there's enough string in the entire world for the clothesline I'll need. I'll probably have to work in shifts. For _days._"

She went back to scrubbing. When no such bucket appeared, Evelyn gave him a _look._ "Really, you could do _something_ to help. It's your mess after all."

"_My_ –_!_" He began, utterly flustered beyond words. The man attempted to calm himself and failed miserably.

He stared down at the temerity of this petite young woman, visions of an oubliette keeping him sane. His beautiful mouth twitched. _She's your queen, she's your queen. _He pursed his lips._ She's keeping you from a life of loneliness. Remember how awful it was to lose Sarah? It'll do you no good to kill her…torture her, yes. By all means. But killing her is Right Out._

"This castle was exactly how I wanted it to be_, precious_." He ground out, trying to keep his temper in check. His voice had taken on the shrill civility of someone beyond the edge of a rage blackout. "Before you went ahead and ruined it."

"And now that it's finally getting cleaned I will have one less thing to complain about. Be happy, _darling,_" she all but mocked, "that your queen is handy about the house. Now, the bucket please."

Incensed, the Goblin King turned and punted the nearest beastie he could find, listening to the satisfying _smack_ the thing made as it connected with the wall. He saw red as he quit the room, impotent rage boiling the blood in his veins. Chickens exploded into the air in black feathery masses as he stalked the halls, like quail in the wood. Goblins cowered and shook as he passed. One may have peed, in fact.

Evelyn listened to his childish tantrum from her place on the floor, scrubbing at a stain. All this for a puddle. _Lord is he touchy.._. She couldn't even imagine how he'd react when she got around to redecorating.

The man tore a chain clear off the wall and hurled it bodily, shouting incoherent words of anger. With an unfortunate goblin clenched in his fist he finally sat in a fit upon the Escher stairs, allowing the odd gravity to hold him upside-down like a roosting bat. The little beastie gurgled pathetically. He looked down at it curiously, not remembering when or where he'd grabbed it. The man would have laughed had the situation not been so dire.

The Goblin King released his victim and watched the thing fall to oblivion, unusually displeased. The sounds of its terror did nothing to ease his mind.

The only comforting thought in this state of madness was that soon he'd tame that infuriating shrew. And _oh_, would breaking her be sweet, indeed.


	5. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth or its characters. Life can be so cruel.

It's Only Forever

Chapter Four

The two of them sat across the long dining table, not speaking.

Company notwithstanding, the meal before her was the worst Evelyn had ever been to. Had she not set the table herself she would swear it had already been eaten. The woman gloomily eyed her plate. She still hadn't ruled it out, actually.

It was exceedingly difficult to make dinner in the alarming state of kitchen she'd had to work with and the near-bare larder left to her disposal. What little she _had_ found was bizarre and foreign-shaped and possibly gone rotten, but she'd used it anyway. The resulting product of her experimental cooking had just barely passed as food in the pot, but now, basking in the romantic light of the ancient candelabra before her, had taken on all the charm of rubbish. It was decidedly grey and mashed and stank like she imagined steamed goblin would. She poked it and something bubbled disconcertingly.

She tentatively took up a forkful and, after much debate, put it in her mouth. The thing was promptly removed and set back down uneaten. A furious round of salt was sprinkled to no avail.

"Salt?" She asked her quiet companion mid-shake, breaking their long stretch of silence. The King of Beasts didn't so much as acknowledge her. He imperiously stared at a fingernail. "Fine then." Salt, salt, salt.

_Suit yourself. Tastes like wet socks but bon appétit. Royal pain in my…_

She sat with knees gathered into her chest for fear of beastie-bites. The position was not very comfortable but alas, it was a necessary evil. As if on cue, an eruption of shrieking came from beneath her chair making her squirm. Salt, salt, salt.

She'd quickly become seasoned in goblin calls during her short stint in the castle; the woman could now distinguish between noises associated with hunger, anger, general cavorting, and goblinistic mayhem. Although she suspected the things could in fact _speak,_ the few she'd been unfortunate enough to come into contact with had mostly grunted. Or shrieked. Or, in one lovely case the girl was still limping over, drooled profusely and tripped her up. Sometimes she'd stare hard down at them wondering if they weren't just messing with her. Bloody little beasties.

With a keen ear she listened to the hungry knells of several goblins roaming the stone wasteland underfoot, looking for a toe-y meal. One of said toes had already been bandaged with a bit of tunic sleeve, having unfortunately been the first sacrifice in the name of enlightenment. As if the thing knew it was being talked about, pain flared from deep within her boot. She winced, remembering.

Beasties loved toes. Go barefoot to appreciate your newly washed floor and suffer the consequences. You only needed to learn that lesson once.

Since they'd tasted flesh there was no stopping their toe-eating frenzy. Those bloody goblins kept popping up to sample their queen's digits, boot and all. A small meat hammer sat on the chair beside her for just such an occasion. She gave it a reassuring pat.

The woman poked forlornly at her ruined meal and peered up at her stoic kidnapper, frowning. It had been hours since he'd gone to ignoring her. She somehow doubted the meat hammer would be effective against this particular goblin.

"Still mad, are you? We could at least talk about it."

No answer.

"Come now, it wasn't all that bad. Really, you're overreacting."

No answer. Evelyn sighed and poked at her blobby food.

"I already apologised, even. Honestly, how was I supposed to know the chemise would shrink? It wasn't as if there was a big tag warning 'Don't wash me, I'm silk' on it. For all I knew it was like any other dirty shirt. What did you expect would happen, leaving it so carelessly on the floor?"

No answer. "Well, say _something_ would you? Want me to shrink your trousers next?"

The man made to object and caught himself, giving the impish little minx a _look._ Her Cheshire grin widened, invisible tail wagging wildly for getting a rise out of him. Fool, he'd fallen for it, too. He growled when she smiled triumphantly.

The Goblin King went back to ignoring her. He poked at his food tetchily, vowing to do something remarkably unpleasant when opportunity presented itself. Evey archly pressed on.

"So, as I was saying before, I don't even know what to call you.

"'Kidnapper' seems rather impersonal. 'Whitesnake', however fitting, cannot possibly hold up for long. Given that I am to live here forever I should at least know your name." He had yet to answer. He'd hoped the girl would take the hint, but she was quickly turning out to be just the sort of disagreeable person who felt the need to fill any silence with useless chatter that the man despised. "Unless you'd rather me call you 'Goblin King' forever?"

No answer. Something belched helpfully beneath her chair. She ignored it.

"Alright. Mr. _King,_ would you like the salt? You can't possibly eat this slop without it."

Just to spite her, the man swallowed down the nasty lump on his fork in one go and looked defiantly at her. He endeavored to appear unaffected as much as his stomach hated him for it. Something was rather gritty between his teeth.

"Oh, lord. Please don't eat that. Here, take the salt."

After dinner their mutual disagreement hit its climax, as the only seat in the hall was unceremoniously claimed by the newest member of the castle. The Goblin King had no issue breaking the silence then, all but shouting at the nerve of her.

"No, _no._ Absolutely not. _Up_."

"I've nowhere else to sit. Those blasted beasties have already nibbled on most of my backside. I've got welts. I mean it! The floor's a warzone."

"Don't care; off, _now._ Or I'll make you _Queen of the Eternal Stench._"

"We could share," she suggested, still not moving. The man crimsoned with fury as she sank further upon his sacred seat and crossed her arms, like a child would. Evey pouted up at him. "Come on, I don't take up that much room. This chair is more than accommodating."

"It's a_ throne_. And I _do not share_."

"It doesn't look like a throne to me. It's rather like a big armchair, with some sort of weird bone…accent piece running along the top. What is this anyway?" A growl was heard when she tapped unwisely on his prized décor. She didn't seem to notice. "Oi. Blimey, I think it's _real_…"

"And why wouldn't it be?"

Evelyn shook her head, not wanting to know what had left it. "May I have my own then? Chair, I mean."

"Throne," he reminded sourly.

"_Throne._ May I, then? A queen should have her own throne, after all."

"No."

"Oh, and why not? Only I have nowhere else to sit."

"There shall only be one throne in this castle. That of the King. Now, up!"

He lifted her bodily out of his chair – _throne_, _damn it!_ – and imperially reclaimed his seat like the born monarch he was. He draped an obligatory leg upon the side and feigned indifference to her whining. She moaned but otherwise didn't protest. He pointedly went back to ignoring her.

That was until she plopped unladylike down upon his lap.

"What do you think you're doing?" The Goblin King's fright all but blinded him. He flailed a bit beneath her slight weight, vying for freedom. "Are you mad?"

"Must be."

"Get off this instant. I'll have you bogged."

"I require a chair." She countered, unimpressed.

The sudden warmth of her was overwhelming and the man felt rather faint from it. He could smell perfume. Shampoo, maybe. It was very hard to tell. Soap was usually something that happened to _other_ people.

Evey squirmed defiantly in accordance to his erratic movement, trying to keep her balance. The action was unbearably intimate. He paled and went still out of self-preservation. She was absolutely mad. She had to be. The woman turned round to face him, arms still crossed. The little chit actually stuck out her tongue.

"Get off."

"No."

They were at a standstill it seemed. Without much else to do, the two began swatting at each other like cats.

"Cut it out this instant," the man warned. He smacked her hand with his which she immediately smacked in turn. "Stop it!"

"_You_ stop it!"

Smack, smack, smack. _Smack!_ She cuffed him smartly in the shoulder.

"Gah!" Smack, smack, smack. Smack. _Whack!_

Several goblins had taken up watching this curious fight from their spot on the floor. Their eyes jumped from queen to king and back again, like spectators at a Ping-Pong tournament. Never in their long history had they seen anything quite like this. They exchanged bets quietly between themselves so as not to be heard by their master.

"There will only be one throne," the Goblin King repeated weakly, not quite believing a word of it. He moved to get better leverage and slapped her arm for good measure. The shift in weight made her fall further into him. She smacked the knee propped beneath her bum, holding herself up with a hand on his chest.

"Oh…do get off…you're acting like a child. Off, off with you!"

The man ceased their battle and instead tried to hoist this incessant problem from his lap to no avail. The woman splayed her legs outward, bracing against his pushing. She went boneless upon him.

"No."

"Oh, _very_ mature," The Goblin King said darkly, trying to move her dead weight. Her useless limbs fell upon herself when he dropped them. "I don't know how someone as small as you can be so…heavy_…urgh!_"

The man strained against the futile effort.

"Boneless," She reminded haughtily. He grunted and gave up.

They sat like this for several heated moments, tendrils of anger fizzling in the air, as both parties panted to catch their breath. The two warriors had come to an unspoken agreement, a pact of surrender. Finally, in this melted state of defeat she nonchalantly reached up and pinched his arm.

"Ow!"

They went back to swatting. How dare she! How _dare..._oh_ lord!_

An unfortunate part of being male chose this inopportune moment to present itself. The sheer trousers hadn't helped. The thrill of being smacked hadn't either. If at all possible the man's face went even paler.

Did this girl know how close to death she was? The bog would have a queen tonight, he vowed.

"Evelyn," The man gasped unexpectedly. "You must get off this instant." He wasn't one to beg but humiliation was inevitable. "_Please_," he reluctantly added, a touch rude. No one else in all the 'verses could possibly make the word "please" sound so much like a threat. He pinched her for good measure.

"Damn it! That hurt, you prat. I won't move until I get a chair."

"Oh, very well then!"

With a click of his fingers an identical, if slightly smaller and less impressive, throne popped into existence next to the one they currently shared. His tormenting young queen rose immediately and left him to his embarrassment, having apparently not noticed. She christened the new chair – _throne_- and swept up her legs to keep the beasties at bay, absently dusting away some glitter.

The tournament was finished. The single spectator who'd bet in her favor felt like clapping at his unlikely win but quickly ruled against it when confronted with the ravage state of their king. The goblins covered and exchanged money amongst themselves.

"Now, was that so hard?"

"You have no idea," the Goblin King grumbled, turning away darkly.

He glared at her from over a shoulder and watched his little shrew settle in. _She's lucky she's beautiful,_ he thought gloomily, and did his best to busy himself with the turning of crystals.

No one was bogged that night, despite how reasonable the notion had been. Several goblins sulked in the corner, their wallets recently emptied.

Life went on like this for a few weeks, the new couple doing their best to avoid one another if at all possible. Once he realised there'd be no stopping her incurious cleaning habits, the man had taken to retreating into the protection of his own chambers for most of the day, it being the only room forbidden from her path of destruction.

He comforted himself with piling as much of the stinking Articles of Forbidden Clothing in the corners as he pleased, encouraging the Cobs to do their worst, and generating several gross puddles out of spite about the floor and walls. He'd even endeavored to get one on the ceiling, but couldn't quite remember how it came about. Goblins were invited in to further muck up the place which they did with enthusiastic glee. The room had reached a new level of unpleasantness, the likes of which had never before been seen.

And it was perfect.

This eternal bachelor was so content in his unhygienic space, in fact, that even areas normally reserved for his royal rear had become officially ordained with dirt. He was, all in all, quite proud of his accomplishment.

His expansive bed had been reduced down to a single tight section of livable mattress which he currently occupied, twisted like a contortionist upon the thin space. The man inhaled the fetid stench of victory and smiled, careful not to move, lest the pile topple onto him. That blasted wife of his would never win. Not completely. He'd seen to that.

"Hah," he said to no one in particular. He tilted back his head with arrogance, narrowly missing a spent wrapper. A fly buzzed respectfully in his ear. "You're no match for me, Evelyn. I'm the Goblin King."

The man cackled a bit too hard and was quickly engulfed in rubbish.

Evelyn sat brushing her hair upon her throne, having finished today's washings earlier than projected. Those beasties had yet to be fully house-broken, continuing their wicked ways all over the castle. She'd scrubbed no less than twenty stains in various rooms. It was significantly less than yesterday's count but she hardly celebrated. The day she could get them to clean after themselves was the day she finally gave up the ghost.

The woman still hadn't caught them speaking but she deeply suspected that they were fully capable of doing so. Something about the way they looked at her gave the distinct impression that they all got together afterhours to laugh at her ignorance. _Blasted little…_

"Damn," she breathed. One of those relentless beasties had woken from its drunken stupor on the floor, sidling up to wreak havoc upon her feet. She pulled her knees up defensively. "Go away. Shoo!"

It flapped its head comically, giant mouth showing teeth. Evelyn frowned at it, suspiciously. The goblin continued its demented cavorting about the floor.

"You simply _can't_ have my toes. I need them! Gods, don't you lot ever give up?"

"I could ask you the same," her darling husband dourly drawled, coming up from a corridor. He casually picked out a piece of rubbish from his wild hair and tossed it on her clean floor, much to Evey's chagrin. She watched it fall in a gentle arch, eye twitching. The woman collected the offending article and threw it in a bin, sitting back down.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"What? What now?" She searched her throne for her missing hammer and cursed. A beastie was stalking slowly towards her. She could practically hear the theme to Jaws as it approached. "Oh, where is it?"

The man gave her a simpering look. He would not be ignored.

"The _clothesline_, Evelyn. Must you continue to defy me?"

"Hammer, hammer, who's got the hammer…? _There _you are!"

The Goblin King watched his queen smack the goblin down with queenly grace. Its gurgle of pain did nothing to soothe his wretched mood.

"You've again washed my shirts. Was the first time not enough? Do you simply _enjoy_ causing me grief?"

"You'll notice none of them have shrunk. I was careful. Just for you, dear."

"Not the point."

He sat upon his throne and frowned at her. "You would do well to fear me, you know. It's a wonder you haven't ended up in the oubliette. I still haven't ruled it out," He added quickly and frowned. Why _hadn't_ she ended up in the oubliette? The man was getting soft in his old age. Surely he should just employ a poisoned peach and get on with it.

"Oh, Kingsly," she purred his newly appointed nickname sweetly. He winced, hating it. "I do fear you, truly. You are most terrifying. The worst Goblin King I've ever met, in fact."

"Don't mock me."

"Who's mocking you? I mean it. Why, I can't even sleep at night, knowing you are somewhere out there creeping in the darkness."

She giggled with fright and staunchly nodded, trying her hardest not to smile. The man glowered, summoning his crystals. Married life was proving most disagreeable. The worst part of it was that he'd begun to almost enjoy her teasing. It was a terrifying notion.

"Could you at least _pretend_ to mean it around _them_," The Goblin King griped, his regal brow scowling out of principle. He listened to the telltale scratching of beastie behind his chair and huffed. "It's bad enough you show me no respect but now it's rubbing off on the goblins."

"They still respect you, dear." She said kindly, patting his arm in a consoling manner.

"Hardly. Yesterday one even dared _sing a song_ in my presence. I was horrified."

It was evident his queen hadn't picked up on the significance of such a faux pas so the man added, "It's absolutely _forbidden_. Only my songs are allowed in the castle. Everyone knows that."

"Naturally."

"It's been a rule for _centuries_. Positively dreadful. I bogged him twice but part of me thinks he'll do it again."

"You poor thing, I hadn't realized."

The Goblin King narrowed a distrustful look upon her, detecting sarcasm. It was always like this these days. His entire marital existence had been built up over a giant landmine, just waiting for a misstep into a bomb. "_Oh?_"

"Indeed. I'm surprised you're holding up as well as you are. I'd be devastated."

"I see." He took another step through the proverbial mine, expecting a sardonic explosion at any moment. "How very unlikely of you. To agree with me, that is."

"Oh, I say you bog the entire lot for good measure. Banish them. Never can be too careful." Evelyn declared, working in her own nefarious plot to rid herself of her beastie-burden. She warily eyed one such creature as it stalked the front of her throne, looking for toes.

"If you let this continue a whole group might organise. Take up some guitars. Write a few catchy songs. Rock and roll and the like. Sweep the kingdom overnight as a great Beastie Invasion. Beastiemania, even.

"I expect a coup any day now." She scanned her little stalker, readying the hammer. "_Aha!_"

The Goblin King stopped listening and rolled his eyes, amounting whatever this woman was flapping on about to her so-called British Humour. He juggled a few crystals in his hand petulantly. The sounds of bonking and goblin squeals went mostly unnoticed.

"Kingsly," Evelyn suddenly sobered. She waited until his eyes met hers, going slightly pink round the edges. It was very unlike her. The man didn't know what to make of it. "Can I ask you a question? In all seriousness, I mean."

"Permission never stopped you before."

She frowned nervously. "Well, it's just that… I was thinking."

"Shocking," the man chimed, not missing a beat. He was loath to admit how much he actually enjoyed the playful smack which followed, feigning annoyance. The skin on his arm she'd touched tingled curiously afterwards.

"Cut it out, I'm serious."

"Go on."

The Goblin King leveled a look upon her as she shuffled in her throne, eyes not entirely meeting his. He'd never seen her so…embarrassingly shy. "Well, it's just that, even though I quite like 'Kingsly', it _would_ be nice to know your actual name one of these days."

"No," He answered her shortly.

The woman glowered profusely and crossed her arms. That was more like it. "Prat."

"What?"

"You're a prat. I don't know why you won't just tell me. What is it, something dreadful?"

"My name is quite fitting, I assure you." Said the Goblin King loftily, still endlessly rotating the crystals in his hand. He juggled them expertly and moved them up and down his arms fluidly like a pro.

Evelyn watched the display for a few moments, darkly. She reached up and plucked one from his grasp. "I bet its feminine, isn't it? That why you're ashamed to tell me?"

"How dare you!" He reached to reclaim his possession fruitlessly. Evelyn twisted and turned like a cat holding onto a yarn ball, dodging his attempts. He clenched his fist and dove at her again to no avail. "And my name is not feminine. Give that back this instant."

"Bet it's 'Sally'. Or 'Winnifred'. Oh! I know! 'Rhoda'."

The man tightened his jaw angrily and sat back into a dignified pout. "It most certainly is _not_ 'Rhoda'. That isn't even a proper name."

"'Mary'?"

"Why would I be named 'Mary'?" The Goblin King erupted off of his royal throne in a huff, quite unhappy to be thought so little of. He rounded on her and did his best to actively promote the very masculine muscle line of his body clad so deliciously in tight pants. The man gave his best smoldering look and cocked his brow. "Do I _look_ like a Mary to you?"

Evelyn studied him as if he were an interesting museum piece. When at last he was confident she felt the heated pull of his gaze, he smirked. "Maxine?"

"Ugh!" He collapsed back into his seat and frowned at her, not enjoying at all her fit of giggles. "Should have known there was no talking to you. My name is not 'Maxine'. It's nothing feminine at all."

"Right, then. 'Sheldon'? 'Eugene'?"

The man actually ground his teeth. "If I tell you, you must promise never to address me as anything but 'Goblin King', or, well, whatever ridiculous variation you seem to be taken with this week."

"Kingsly," she interjected and grinned.

"Yes, that. I _will_ rule you, do you understand? I am your _King,_ no matter what transpires here today. Is that clear?"

"_Crystal,_" Evey hummed sweetly, indicating his stolen possession she still held in a hand. He swatted at it for good measure, not even remotely close.

He still wasn't convinced but relented. "Jareth."

"What?"

"_Jareth_," the man said louder, rage building. He scowled down at her for a moment, and then sniffed elegantly. "My name. It's…Jareth."

If Evelyn didn't know any better she'd think he was waiting for her opinion on the matter. She looked up into his self-conscious eyes. "It's unique, I'll give you that."

The Goblin King scowled even darker than before. "Better than 'Rhoda', certainly."

"It's nice," Evey assured him, moving to embrace his shoulders comfortingly. "I like it."

"You're just saying that."

"No, I mean it. It's no 'Sheldon', but it isn't bad."

He clicked his tongue shot a look at her, realising too late that she was only teasing him. Their faces were rather close together now, something that didn't go unnoticed by either party. The sounds of impudent roaming beastie filled their awkward silence. They stayed like this for longer than necessary before breaking off.

"Yes, well, _ahem._" Evelyn released him and sank bashfully back into her throne, mindlessly turning his crystal in her hand.

"Ahem," Jareth agreed, turning away. He looked secretly at her when he thought she was sufficiently distracted. She was very, very beautiful. Oh lord, was she beautiful. Perhaps he could…

"Jareth?" Evelyn suddenly spoke, immediately ruining his mood. Beautiful or not, the girl was irritating. "I've been meaning to ask you. How do you manage to juggle so well? I'm absolute rubbish at it. Would you teach me?"

"I said not to call me that."

"But it is your name, after all."

"You promised!"

"Did I?" She impishly smirked. The Cheshire grin spread with exasperating results. "I don't remember that."

The man sulked and draped a statuesque leg about the curve of his throne. "Of course not. I should have known better than to trust you."

She continued to amateurishly wobble the poor crystal about her hand, nearly dropping it. His odd eyes stared daggers at the impudent young woman playing with _his_ toy. "Oh darling, you should really learn to relax. You'll be much happier in the long run."

The two settled into silence once more, the Goblin King looking rather cross. His Queen aimed for another beastie while unsuccessfully teaching herself how to juggle. He should have known she'd be so utterly disagreeable. His brow cocked slightly, a devilish thought suddenly very attractive. The man leaned over and extended the proverbial olive branch.

"Peach?" He asked wickedly.


	6. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth or its characters. Life can be so cruel.

It's Only Forever

Chapter Five

The woman drifted silently through the castle, exploring the many rooms and chambers open to her disposal. Evelyn had taken to going off on her own despite Jareth warning against it. It was just about the only way to keep from going mad.

On these wanderings she felt very much like Alice, only, beyond _her_ looking glass was not a world of incredible imagination and excitement.

This place was the worst kind of magic, indeed, and filled with so many odds and ends she couldn't even begin to wrap her mind around the lunacy involved with planning out such an estate. There were tunnels devoted to nothing but trickery, with goblin-manned spiraling mechanisms digging through and breaking down entire walls for no good reason. There was a room modelled after Escher's madness where gravity simply happened to _other _people. There were trap doors which lead to nowhere. Doors spoke on occasion and were rather rude about it, no less. Corridors only just travelled down would yield a different result when passed through again.

Such madness. The castle was a labyrinth in its own right, truly, and spoke volumes about its King. She rounded one such corridor and was stopped immediately.

"Go back!" Rumbled a deep theatrical voice, like the grinding of stone slabs. Evelyn cocked a brow and examined the odd face with a touch of doubt.

"Why's that, then?"

"Go back, before it's too late," it warned in notes of deathly gravel, slightly perturbed by the girl's apparent disregard for good sense. It swivelled large rock eyes towards her and tried to look foreboding. "Leave! You're going the wrong way…"

"How do you know that I _don't_ want to go this way? Maybe this corridor is exactly where I wish to be going."

The wall seemed to consider that but quickly resumed its normal, "Go back, before it's too late!"

"But _why_ must I go back?"

This certainly wasn't in the script. "Listen, you just do, alright? We say 'Go back!' and you are supposed to follow suit. Those are the Rules."

"We didn't make them," agreed another dour face on the wall adjacent. "We just enforce them."

"Well, thanks for the warning but..." Evey began walking again, following the invisible white rabbit.

"Go back!"

"Something dreadful round the corner, hmm?" She peered past the line of wall, into the forbidden pathway. "Am I gonna find the legendary Black Beast of Aaauuugh, you reckon?"

"Well, you certainly won't like it."

"You sure?" said Evey. "And what exactly is preventing me from going anyway?"

"None shall pass?" It ground out experimentally, and waited with a curious look about it.

"What?"

The face grumbled, "Well, it was worth a shot."

"Right then."

"Go back," the voice boomed dramatically as per his contract, like the closing of tombs deep beneath the earth's surface. It was his go-to response in the face of such contrary disagreeable persons and their smart-mouthed defiance. And at any rate it had been ages since he'd got to use it. "Turn back a—_hey_, stop that."

Evelyn unceremoniously poked and prodded at the odd carving which had been speaking to her. She jabbed at its nose and tugged its lip rather unsuccessfully. It tried to bite her.

"So odd," the girl commented, nudging a stony cheek despite the growling of gravel. "You got teeth, even. Jareth sure keeps strange pets."

"We are not pets," the face drawled most offended, being released from its ridiculous scrutiny. It wagged and crinkled its boulder of a face to erase the memory of her rude little hands. "We are the Stone Sentinels. We are very important."

The woman stood back and nodded. "I can see that, what with you being stuck down here in the middle of nowhere and all. How is it that you lot are talking?" She checked round the corner for some sort of outlet, suspecting it to be the work of bloody beasties. "Extraordinary."

A face down the row chimed in helpfully, "We're _sentient._ Sort a' comes with the package."

"Pull the other one," Evey said good-naturedly.

"It's _true!_ Not easy bein' a Sentin'l, you know? We 'ad to train for this job an' ever'thing."

"Quiet, Rocky."

"You'll 'ave to forgive ol' Stone Face, miss. 'e's been _stiff fa' ages_." A round of gritty laughter filled the tight space. The first face merely sighed, the sound of falling rocks echoing down a long chasm. After a thousand years he was quite used to such abuse.

Evelyn looked suspiciously at the jokester, still rumbling in good fun. He seemed to be a sprightly youth. Well, comparatively speaking. "Why do you sound Welsh?"

"Wot, me? Well why do _you_ sound British?"

Exasperated, the woman gave up and continued going the wrong way down the corridor, as far as the stone heads were concerned.

The sound of music lofted closer as she made her way down a spiraling passageway, avoiding the odd dead-end. It was a rather upbeat number, something she suspected would boast wild costumes and even wilder dance moves. The woman slowly crept up the staircase, rounding towards the source of such garish tunes. A light was issuing from the open mouth of a threshold up ahead. She could hear someone singing but couldn't quite make out the words –

"…Now baby, what am I to do-oo-ooo? I try so hard not to think of you. In my heart I can easily see-ee-eee… that you are not…right for m –"

The music abruptly cut off, a very shocked and very embarrassed Goblin King mid-pelvic thrust and using his riding crop as a microphone. His stone-cut features paled, eyes going wide.

"—uh," He faltered. The hand he'd been jazzing up the place with lowered lamely.

"_Oh_, 'kay…" Evelyn gaped inelegantly.

Glitter took this inopportune moment to dislodge and sprinkle on the goblins still dancing underfoot with a faint _shhp_. Twenty pairs of eyes stared mortified at being caught. Evelyn looked equally surprised. They stood like this for a few awkward moments until the woman finally backed up slowly from the doorway and, once out of sight, ran full-force down the corridor from whence she came, ignoring the stony 'I told ya so' as she dashed past.

Her brain decided that _if a talking rock tells you to 'go back', you probably should listen._

The incident would forever be known as _That Which We Do Not Speak Of, _mutually decided by all parties involved to be quickly forgotten and filed away. Both King and Queen avoided one another for the rest of the evening. Several of the goblins picked lint and bogeys out of their various orifices with shame anytime she eyed them across the room.

Over the next few months, or perhaps days, so hard to tell in the Underground, the two had fallen into a comfortable routine that most married couples develop after years spent together in blissful indifference. He'd reach for the salt she'd only just set down, she'd pick up the discarded laundry under his upstretched feet. The two moved around one another as if second nature. Theirs was a rather platonic arrangement, with the occasion brush of a hand, or the bump of knees rounding out the decidedly unromantic romance they shared.

They lived in separate chambers, in separate beds, and like most proper British folk kept a respectable distance from all things otherwise unseemly.

This would have been perfectly agreeable, and in fact _had been_ up until now, save for one important detail: The woman wasn't sure when it had first begun, or why, or how, and she definitely couldn't pinpoint the exact moment she noticed, but she was beginning to have…_feelings_ for Jareth.

There is nothing more distressing in this world than realising you are falling in love with your own husband. The thought drove her to distraction daily. It kept her up at night. She was beginning to think she'd gone ill, when any time the Goblin King would enter the room she'd fluster up and lose her senses. Something had to give in this equation or else she'd surely go mad.

Romance was never something that came easily to her, having not very much experience in that department. She'd only had one serious boyfriend before and he'd been an absolute prat. Evelyn fondly remembered the day they'd broken up for good. Gods, the woman was still not sure what she'd seen in that idiot.

Mitchell had been a normal sort of guy, with a normal sort of job, who spent most of his nights down at the local pub. He watched the telly and drank loads of beer. He wore glasses. He lived a normal sort of life and blended mostly into the background. Average. Straight-laced. _Normal. _And being with him was an absolute bore.

But Jareth was wholly different than anyone _normal._ His eccentricities alone made him the most unconventional man she'd ever met. Evey found something new to add to his list of oddities daily. He couldn't be wooed in the normal means.

The woman had been dropping hints about lately, but just as she expected, the Goblin King would have none of that. Their subsequent exchanges had become mostly battles of suggestive futility, ending further from the mark than when they'd started. She was beginning to think nothing would ever change.

"Made you tea," Evey purred one afternoon, offering the mug sweetly. The man eyed her warily from his seat and waved her away dismissively.

"I don't drink tea."

Evelyn looked utterly scandalized. "How can an Englishman not drink tea? Only it's practically engraved into our DNA."

"I'm not English," he said as a means of explanation. He went back to spinning his crystals. "I'm the Goblin King. I'm gobl…well, actually..._huh_."

"Huh?"

The man straightened suddenly, looking mildly concerned. Dangerous thoughts swirled about his mind as he racked his memories. "Come to think of it, I'm not entirely sure what I am, actually. I've just always been the Goblin King. It's never dawned on me to…label myself as anything but."

"Well, surely you have family. What of them? What are they?"

Jareth settled into an awkward silence. "No, actually. No I don't. Just me. And the goblins and such."

Evey set her tea down and hovered above him with a sympathetic hand. Emotions were making her eyes go all watery round the edges, something that had been happening as of late with the onset of her _feelings_ for this man. She finally set it gently down upon his knee, thumb rubbing experimentally about the glittery trousers adorning his leg.

"Oh, dearest, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. But wait, that can't be true. You must have come from _somewhere_. Perhaps you simply don't remember."

"You think?"

"Sure," Evey said earnestly, her hand getting a lot more comfortable on his thigh. "You could be like that Peter Pan chap. You know, wished away by your parents. Took in by the locals. Memory might just be a bit foggy since you were so young. Maybe you eventually grew up to be their King…"

Jareth looked at her kind, helpful face as if seeing her for the first time. There was no sarcasm lingering there as was customary. No threat of smacking. No looming pinch on the horizon. The woman actually seemed, well, rather compassionate. Almost. Caring, even. It was most unsettling.

Two green eyes held his with open, unabashed sincerity. The Goblin King noted her wayward hand resting upon his leg with a dreadful frown. He didn't recognize this strange girl at all.

"You feeling alright?" He asked quietly, unsure whether to check her temperature or bolt away. His crystals disappeared abruptly. "You seem to be taken ill."

Evelyn sighed heavily and pulled away, shot down once again. She took up her tea and sulkily gazed over top of the cup at nothing in particular. "Fine, dear."

"Evelyn," said Jareth, uncertain and highly uncomfortable. It was a territory most unfamiliar to him, worrying about the health of others. His first instinct was to get angry, which he did in spades. "Don't lie to me. Something is wrong with you. What is it? Lord, it's not contagious is it?"

The woman set her tea back down, glowering. "Why does something have to be wrong? I was only trying to help. Can't I be helpful?"

"Not especially, no."

"Oh aren't you a berk."

"_There_, that's more like it. _There's_ the Evelyn I'm used to. At least now I know you aren't dying or something."

Evey looked cross up at him and his relaxed relief. "And what is that supposed mean?"

"Insults," He said shortly, eyebrows pulled up into regal indifference. "It's practically unnatural for you to resist insulting me. Taunting. Teasing. Scowling. You are _constantly _scowling."

The man gave an arrogant huff and leaned back upon his throne, self-satisfied in totally calling her out. He smirked as she proved him right yet again. "See? Scowling."

"Oh, try to comfort someone. Lot of good it does," Evelyn stood and crossed her arms irately. "Stop laughing."

Jareth didn't stop. In fact if anything, the man laughed louder just to spite her. He tittered smugly in the face of her rage. He chortled with abandon. He was practically guffawing with glee by the time he came back up for air. It shouldn't have even been funny, but it was highly enjoyable to see her so deliciously upset.

"Stop it, I mean it."

The girl reached over and smacked him. The Goblin King quickly snuffed the giggles, turning up his nose at her. "Oh you did _not_."

"I did."

He paused, regally affronted and most imposing. The cruel line of his eyes deepened. They stared daggers at one another, seething, soundlessly daring the other to make the first move. In a split decision, Jareth lithely sprang up and grabbed her around the waist, pulling his little shrew down upon his lap for a battle of epic proportion. Or at least, it would have been, save the fact that in doing so the two had become entangled in a most undignified, compromising position. Faces only a breadth apart, the couple fell to silence.

Sensing the shift in mood the man gazed seriously into Evelyn's eyes far longer than platonically appropriate. Something was changing between them in this small expanse of time, if only by a little. A line was about to be crossed that would change the very foundation of their relationship.

His ancient heterochromic eyes traced her features tenderly, memorizing every detail of her face. Had she always been so beautiful? They held Evey in their depths and bequeathed her come-hither.

The woman inhaled intently, submissively lidding her gaze, leaning in. Jareth smiled ever so gently as their lips brushed.

"Laaa!"

The couple jerked apart in various states of confusion, embarrassment, and better judgement, turning to locate the source of such idiotic interruption. A beastie had chosen this moment to present itself, mouth flapping wide, carrying on as beasties do. It wagged its demented face about as it circled the pair, disappearing behind the curve of throne.

Evelyn scuttled off of Jareth's lap, brushing down her tunic and clearing her throat, painfully aware of how intimately placed she'd been just moments before.

"Yes, well…" The woman stammered and turned about-face, hoping the blush she felt heating her skin wasn't red enough to be seen. Without much else to do she hastily quit the throne room, punting an unlucky chicken clear across a corridor when it happened upon her _Walk of Shame_.

The Goblin King sank back wordlessly into his throne, looking up at the lofty ceiling. After a lifetime of staring he let out the breath he'd been inexplicably holding onto. His face was a mask of disbelief and amazement.

After a few moments spent in silence, his lip began to curl into a grin.

Since this incredible almost-incident, the two seemed to purposefully find excuses to bump into one another all over the castle. Neither one would outright say they harbored feelings for the other, of course. So, extensive energy was instead foolishly put into beating around the bush.

To date they'd nearly come close to kissing five times now, with Jareth running ragged inventing new ways to 'accidentally' spend time in Evelyn's company. He dedicated several hours teaching her to juggle, to no avail. She really was rubbish at juggling.

He'd stopped wearing his gloves for one miserable evening on the pretense of touching her hand with his, only to quickly realise why he'd taken to wearing them in the first place. One goblin bite later and the gloves were back on. Never had he bogged so many goblins in one go. A new personal record, that.

He sat gloomily on the Escher stairs, flicking sequins off into oblivion. The man had utterly hit the end of the road. Outside of helping with the washing up, which not only fell under the classification of _Never in a Million Years_ but wouldn't be realistic enough to pass anyway, there was absolutely nothing else he could pretend to want to do with her. He'd near exhausted himself. Jareth was at a loss.

Interestingly enough the man didn't have much of an imagination when the situation didn't involve pain or torture. He'd even _considered_ pain and torture, actually. But alas, that blasted girl would probably like it too much.

On the other side of this strange affair, Evey wasn't fairing any better.

She'd employed every tactic she possibly could in trying to catch Jareth's eye. The man was utterly oblivious.

She'd brushed knees with him, coyly laughed when their hands met. Teased him. Taunted him. Gave him the old cleavage bend. Verbally sparred the ever-loving crap out of him. Smacked him for good measure. Wantonly draped herself upon her throne more often than she cared to admit. Once she pretended to be overheated and dropped ice down her blouse, moaning softly just for him. Nothing.

The girl had even 'accidentally' tripped herself up on his leg, just about falling helplessly into his lap. She'd pouted for God's sake!

All for naught. Things were beginning to turn desperate.

"Darling," said Evelyn casually one day, eyes never leaving the book in her hands. She'd heard the man enter the room from her reclined position. Her heartbeat galloped in her chest. _Now or never. Now or never. Come on Evey._

"What do you think about giving the little Beasties the day off? I'm sure even goblins enjoy the occasional holiday."

Several furred creatures, ghastly in their own unique way, terrorized the floor beneath her feet, scrambling to be as incurably obnoxious as goblinly possible. They hated to see their queen doing anything she really enjoyed. They felt it their personal responsibility to relieve her of all pleasures and peace while she lived in the castle. Like goblin, like Goblin King, she supposed.

Evelyn quietly spied at him over top of the pages, noting the skintight leggings with an appreciative purr. She checked herself quickly, cursing her lack of willpower. _Damn, settle down girl. Concentrate._

One rather bloated beastie popped its head up near her knee, screaming an endearing shriek as it flapped its silly head wide. She regarded it with a tired sigh and bonked it smartly upon the head, as was their routine. Evey had long since given up trying to reason with the little buggers, and although she still deeply suspected they had the power of speech, had stopped caring to find out. They were completely tiresome and aggravating. Thinking better of it, the woman hit the goblin again with her hammer just for good measure.

"Whatever for?" Her husband crossed to her and took up his own throne, leg draped carelessly over the side. Its risqué position made her eyes involuntarily follow up the length of him, flushing. _Damn!_

Jareth leveled a look in her direction. He blamed her entirely for their not getting anywhere, romantically. He'd long since given up trying.

"Oh, it will be innocent enough at first but then they'll start…_thinking_. _Reasoning._ It'll be only a matter of time before they'll expect other…_privileges. _They''ll think they have_ rights, _dearest."

He shuddered, erasing the thought.

"We could do _something_," she suggested urgently, eyes having another go. With a ravenous look about her, the woman swallowed down the lump forming in her throat. "Go out. We've hardly left this castle, beyond a brief stint in the labyrinth and a strange night eradicating a herd of dancing dog…creatures."

She lost her senses as he brought up the other leg, one crossing over the other. He had the legs of a thoroughbred and a body made for sin. Oh lord, was she in trouble.

"Fireys," He supplied, taking up a crystal or two. The man didn't notice the calculating predator sitting next to him, licking her lips.

"What?"

"Those 'dog creatures', as you called them. They're Fireys."

She sighed, exasperated, utterly lost. "I…What? _Why?_"

"Because they breathe fire," said Jareth quickly with all the deft maneuverings of an escape artist, not meeting her eyes. He hadn't kept his labyrinth-cred for hundreds of years by conceding ignorance. She looked at him doubtfully.

The woman's gaze drifted to his neckline, watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Was it hot in here? She fanned herself off. _Bob, bob…up, down, up, down. Oh god, the bobbing…_

"It hardly matters. Either way, it wasn't exactly _Paris_." Seriously, why was it so effing hot? Was she coming down with something? The woman inconspicuously checked herself for a fever. She fanned herself with the book as if life depended on it.

With a wearied sigh the man turned his round gems just so in his hand, watching shapes and faces flutter into existence. The trouble with marriage, he astutely decided, was that it was no place for love. Perhaps that had been his mistake. He'd married her too quickly. And here he'd thought married life would be so agreeable. He'd never _once _gotten close to having her fetch his slippers, damn it all.

"It wasn't as if I asked you to come. You insisted on tagging along. And what did I tell you would happen, hmm? The Fireys –"

"—would try and take off my head." She recited simultaneously with her husband, looking at him miserably. Her eyes traced the muscles beneath his open shirt. Evey moaned low in her throat. "I know."

"I don't see why you're angry. I did warn you."

"Yes, but I didn't think you meant it." She captured a lip between her teeth, loving his sudden stretch and the length of hard abs it momentarily revealed. _Damn…_The Goblin King settled into a pout.

"When do I say anything I don't mean?"

He had a point.

"But, darling, we should still do _something._ Certainly, you can't be…satisfied…in our arrangement? Isn't there _anything_ you might want to do?" Gods, was he handsome. She hadn't noticed before. Not fully. Usually she was just annoyed with him or fighting off one of the beasties. His gold hair cascaded down a chiseled shoulder, looking exotic and wild. How Evey wanted to pull it like reins…

She cocked an eyebrow at such a bold thought and felt her ears heat up. Lord, oh _lord_ she was in trouble. She was actually sweating. _Fan, fan, fan._

One beastie took this untimely moment to pop its head up again. Evelyn didn't even look as she fisted it into submission.

"No," he said eventually. "What do you mean, precious?"

"Perhaps it would be nice to have some…_alone time_," Evelyn stressed suggestively. She leaned forward, attempting to entice him with the loose neckline of her garment and the ample view it provided. "You know. Just between the two of us. No Fireys. And _no beasties._"

She eyed the goblin sidling up to her with abject fury, thinking she'd been distracted. She balled a fist and cocked an eyebrow menacingly. It promptly disappeared behind the throne. It had been lurking there all morning, content to be hit on occasion, which was good enough for her. Usually it would be eating a boot by now. She'd be damned to let it ruin the mood today.

"Surely there must be _something_ we could do together. Hmm?"

"We could dance if you want. Or have a turn at the Escher stairs again…"

Evelyn glowered at him. She wound up and smacked him across the arm in her fury.

"What?" He shouted, looking at her as if she were mad. "Why is it always violence with you?"

"_Because,_" she all but shouted back, much to his mounting panic. His wife was practically raving. The colour drained from his face as he recovered from being hit. He stared down at her with an eyebrow raised. "God_damn_ it, Jareth! I want _sex!_ Sex, sex, sex, sex, _SEX!_"

Evelyn panted as she came down from her ill-advised high. She'd broken. Oh gods, she'd broken. It had felt amazing at the time but now in the light of emotional sobriety, his queen settled into a mortified silence. The man noticed she'd taken up a rather peculiar hunch during her outburst, hands clawing at the air like angry talons.

She was still mostly hunched but for other reasons. Nothing about her was attractive in this fallen state.

He considered the whole package, awkwardly. "…I have a headache?"

The resulting shriek was heard outside by a group of goblins. They quickly resumed minding their own business, quite accustomed to strange screaming coming from within the castle walls.


	7. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth or its characters. Life can be so cruel.

It's Only Forever

Chapter Six

A foreboding silence had descended upon the castle, draping it in a death shroud. A storm of magnificent proportion felt the pull of such desolate gloom and had chosen it as its center of operation, hovering protectively about the battlements. Angry clouds pulsated with electricity overhead and boiled the fetid air. The red sky grew violent and terrible.

Like a craggy black thumb the Goblin Castle loomed darkly over the town, threatening and mean.

The odd townsfolk kept mostly to themselves in the safety of their odd little homes. Beady eyes frequently peaked through the windows, bobbing in and out of view so as not to be seen. They didn't know what to make of it, really.

Their beloved castle was a spot saturated in the most dang, nasty evil imaginable. And now it had lightning on.

Beasties had inadvertently earned their elusive day off despite how miserable the prospect had seemed during its proposal; no one dared get near the castle now. Black lightning struck down and fractured the land, air sizzling in its wake.

The Labyrinth was receiving the brunt of its destructive force and was _not very pleased_. A perfectly good fountain had shattered. A courtyard of stone was now nothing but a field of debris. A wall of shrubbery had taken a lot of pains to mend itself, thorns and all, thank-you-very-much. It couldn't quite master the art of erasing the burned hedge spot left behind, covering the mark instead with an unlucky passing guard whose helmet had fallen off some time ago.

"_Hallo?_" It called once or twice to the upside-down world. "Guess I'll just…stay here then, shall I?"

No one answered.

Inside the castle a King was arranged most dejectedly upon his throne. A seat next to him remained unoccupied. The chair marked a black hole in his heart, a constant reminder of _her_. It hadn't been home to its queen in quite some time now. Evelyn, exasperatingly insolent woman that she was, had for some inexplicable reason been avoiding him. She hadn't even been cleaning. The castle was left to ruin.

Jareth felt the crushing weight of loneliness for the first time in ages. He didn't much like it.

Loneliness was no stranger to him, having been his mistress for a thousand years before Evey waltzed in and took over. The walls he'd built up around his heart lent very well to his role as the tragic lover. And he took his craft very seriously. But the gaping loss the man now felt had been made somehow worse than the loneliness he was accustomed to.

He couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat. He couldn't even understand _why._

He supposed even loneliness, cruel bint that she was, had turned on him in his time of need. The Goblin King blamed Evelyn entirely for the end of his millennium-long love affair. He blamed her for a lot of things, actually.

He'd been mulling over that fateful evening and the subsequent silent treatment which followed, having not much else to do otherwise. Any way Jareth looked at it he was completely within his rights to turn her down. Evey had practically begged him for sex. It was most unbecoming. Highly unattractive.

Horrifying…_wait, no._ He quickly shook the admission away and replaced it with '_horribly_…unpleasant'. There, much better.

Actually, if he wanted to be honest with himself, the proposition had struck him utterly by surprise. At the time the Goblin King had no idea how to react. They hadn't even properly kissed yet. So much for Valentine evenings. So much for enjoying the chase. In one desperate outburst the girl essentially had robbed him of a crucial tactic in his shoddy repertoire of romantic gestures. It had been jarring. No one had ever hounded after _him _before.

The word 'horrifying' crept back into his mind. Damn her.

The sound of woe and misery escaped him suddenly as he crumpled upon his arms, burying his head. Death was soon approaching, he knew. His chest ached. His body had begun to shut down. Colours were dulling. Taste all but a fond memory. The man ruefully glanced up at the only world he'd known and with a theatric wail lulled back into the sweet embrace of nothingness.

After a few moments Jareth opened a venturing eye and peered about. Death sure took his sweet time, the lazy git.

The man sat up with cross, sullen neglect darkening his features. He gave a puggy look at the riding crop strung about his lap and, suddenly disliking its cheeky nerve, flung the thing across the room. It smacked against the open porthole and rolled down an ashlar step.

"I hate you," the king sulked. His red rimmed eyes dusted the empty throne to his left. "I hate everything."

In his petulant fit he didn't notice the room's sudden guest, standing timidly in the shadow of a threshold.

"Hey," Evelyn caught him off guard. The Goblin King jumped and captured the sound of his surprise with a gloved hand. His wife cleared her throat and allowed him some shred of dignity, looking away while he composed himself. "Can we talk? I've been thinking and…well, I might have…overreacted. A bit."

Jareth sat cagily upon his perch. "Oh?"

The woman released a steadying breath and shook her head, feeling rather silly.

"Yeah. Listen. I'm an idiot. I was really insensitive towards you. I'm sorry. I just wanted to say that."

The man wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic or not. "You were?"

"Absolutely, I was a complete and utter prat. I was so caught up in my own stupid crush that I didn't even consider your feelings or your…_preference_."

"…My what?" He certainly didn't like that sound of _that._

"Can you forgive me?" Evelyn teetered apologetically for a bit, shamefaced. "Please? God, I'm so stupid, I should have realised sooner."

Jareth perked up like a flighty parrot only just realising his cage door had been left open, aware the cat may still be around.

"Realised what, exactly?"

"That you're…_you know_," the woman broached the topic almost comically, not wanting to outright say it, assuming he did. She waved her hands about to form the words. "Gay."

"_What?_ No, _no_ –"

"It's alright, darling, I'm not judging. Promise. Oh god, only I was a fool, wasn't I? I should have realised. What with the tight trousers and all the glitter. _So_ much glitter." Now that the man was completely off the table and out of the proverbial closet, Evey felt she could speak freely and open up to him. It was so liberating. She beamed and giggled with an irksome conspiratorial wrinkle to her nose at her newest 'girlfriend'. "And well, you didn't exactly try to hide it from me but I was just _oblivious_—"

"Evey –" Jareth burst up from his throne in a panic, "I'm not –"

"—I only hope you can forgive me, love. I have no excuse.

"You know, I had a mate who was, back in uni. You'd have fancied him," the woman saucily remarked, taking a jab to his side with her elbow. She winked. "Oh was he rather good looking. I mean, _certainly _nowhere near your league, but not bad."

Other than the faint satisfaction of having her think him handsome, the man was quickly becoming unglued. He all but roared, "I'm not gay!"

Evelyn stopped her mindless chitchatting and went still. "What? Yes you are."

"Abso_lutely _not. You are sorely mistaken."

"Then…I don't understand. Why did you refuse…?"

The Goblin King furiously stalked toward her and loomed darkly overhead, drawing up to his full height, making her quiver with anticipation. This was a side of Jareth she hadn't seen much of as of late. She'd forgotten just how treacherous the man could be when he tried.

He commanded her rapt attention, arrogant cruel eyes boring into her own, making her go weak. With an animalistic hunger he predatorily captured her arms and swept her up, leaning over her helpless form. With dizzy approval her head submissively lulled back to look up at him. Possessive need crossed his stone-cut features. She sighed, lost and loving it. Only too late did the man realise the effect he was having on her was also having an effect on him. His pulse quickened lustfully.

"Perhaps you've forgotten," his voice drawled with an eerie calm he certainly didn't feel, "that I am your king. And a king makes the rules, not his subjects." An evil smirk curled up his mouth. With every word his woman was becoming more and more unhinged. She was practically ravenous.

"Jareth," his name on her lips sounded like an invitation. Evelyn couldn't help the drunken grin spreading upon her face. He really wasn't gay after all. Thank. God.

In this small breadth of space the man decided he rather liked seeing her so pliable in his hands, at his mercy. Valentine evenings be damned. Courting was overrated at any rate. Romance doubly so. Eff the chase; he'd captured the vixen without even trying.

With a devilish glint in his eye he drew her up into an electrifying kiss, passionate and greedy.

When they finally had to break for air, both king and queen gave an appreciative grin, desire burning in their eyes. With nary a though, the man took her by the hand and dragged his foolish wife out of the room on a mad mission down the empty corridors. Evey would have protested but was still recovering from the excitement of finally being lorded over.

Sometime later in Evelyn's tidy bedroom chamber, they laid in various states of afterglow, stupid grins upon their faces. With a content sigh Evey rolled onto her side and leaned over him, her hand drawing shapes along his muscular chest. Jareth looked fondly up at her, for once entirely fine with relinquishing control. Why he hadn't tried this sooner he didn't know. Subduing her had been easy enough. Lord, she was beautiful. He traced a hand along her fine jawline, trailing it down her swanlike neck. He tangled his hand in her dark hair, loving the silkiness. She was his property now, beyond any doubt. He quite fancied his little wife.

In such a vulnerable position the man unthinkingly let slip the following words:

"Sex was even better than I imagined it would be."

Evelyn frowned at him, her hand going still. Had she heard that correctly? "What?"

"Nothing," he quickly declared, cursing himself in the back of his mind. The man promptly removed his hand from his lover's hair and suddenly felt uncomfortable. He found her gaze to be oddly penetrating when not wearing clothes.

"Jareth…you aren't…_weren't_…a virgin, were you?"

"No," he lied looking for an escape route. Her fine curvature was securely locking him to the bed. Never had he imagined that would be a bad thing. "Of course not. That would be ludicrous. I'm the Goblin King. I've had…several…conquests."

His wife stiffened a bit. "You _were_, oh Jareth – you really _were,_ weren't you? Did I just take your virginity?"

"Get off," The man argued, vying for freedom. She pinned him down, staring at him as if he were some sort of interesting specimen under a microscope. He was thoroughly uncomfortable now. "I'm getting up."

Evelyn softened considerably. The implications of such a thing touched her deeply. She couldn't help the smile. "Sweetheart..."

"Up, up I say. Be gone with you."

Her hands captured the sides of his face, the man's surprise and dread fighting for mutual possession over his features. Without another word his queen leaned in and soundly kissed him.

"What was that for?"

"Because I love you," she admitted gently.

Jareth looked like a mouse caught in a trap. "You do?"

"With all my heart."

"Oh."

"Oh?" Evey repeated friskily. She felt like laughing at the absurdity of this whole situation. "That it?"

The man frowned and reevaluated his position on the matter. Being naked wasn't helping him look intimidating at all. He tried out a, "Thank you?"

She smacked him playfully on the arm, which he made a fuss over. "What's that for?"

"Well, generally one would say 'I love you, too', or something of the like. It's rather standard fare I should think."

Jareth was loath to admit weakness of any kind. Especially when she'd surely exploit it the first chance she got. The man clucked cynically at her. "And why do you just assume that's the case?"

The woman had gone back to drawing patterns on his chest, not worried in the least. "Oh, I _know _you love me."

"You're so infuriating."

"I know," she purred and kissed him again, entwining their hands together. A hint of a smile dusted his lips where a blush was just beginning. Eveyln snorted in the face of proof. "Yep, you're in deep, darling. I love you, too, you dork."

She was woken hours later by the sound of crying.

Crying was not such a strange occurrence in the Goblin Castle. Lots of sounds were commonplace here. Shrieking, moaning, strangled yells of tortured beastie. Snoring. The ghost of musical numbers Evelyn mostly avoided thinking about like the plague. Chicken clucks at all hours of the night. The list of noisy odds and ends was longer than her arm.

But this particular crying was completely foreign to her ears.

The woman sat up careful not to disturb her sleeping husband. She looked around her dark chamber, wondering if her mind wasn't just playing tricks on her. Evey heard it again, faint but unmistakable.

As if ingrained into her feminine psyche, the urgent sound roused her tired feet from bed, blankets tossed aside. Jareth rolled to a more comfortable position in her absence. The woman spared him a loving glance before grabbing a robe and quitting the room.

She followed the curious call down several corridors still unsure if what she was hearing was indeed real. It couldn't be. Surely, it couldn't be.

Evey stood with a look of incredulous disbelief in the open archway of the throne room, mouth falling open. With eyes wide she stared.

There, in the center of the circular basin set into the stone floor, was a babe.

He turned his puffy red face towards the woman as she came into view, clutching a little fist in its teething mouth. His irritable eyes pleaded up at her. The crying mostly died away but threatened to begin again at any moment. Seeing a female put the thing at somewhat of an ease, although the female in question had not been Momma.

The child bowed its towhead, suddenly finding a bit of his onesie's fabric really very interesting. Little yellow duckies were set against a powder blue background with soap bubbles on. The sheer fluffy cuteness was nauseating.

"Oh my god," Evelyn still hadn't moved from the doorway. In her terror she dutifully checked round the room for indication of this baby's mother but found nothing. Her eyes invariably drew back to the creature plopped unconcernedly on the floor.

The goblins had evidentially ventured back into the castle sometime during their lovemaking, the storm breaking up with the change of mood in its King. Several now stalked menacingly around the room like they did on most occasions, but otherwise paid the odd visitor no mind. "Um…hello there. _Uh…_"

The babe gurgled and looked up at her once more, goobering around its small fingers. The child couldn't have been more than one or two years at the most. A hint of giggle that may very well have been gas escaped its mouth.

"Where's your mum then?"

Evey inched closer to the thing as it thumped madly upon the stone, playing. Once or twice he smiled at her, his crying seemingly all but forgotten.

The woman sidled up to the basin's edge, endeavoring in the most difficult task of keeping her body as far away as possible while simultaneously advancing forward. She gave the little babe a long stare.

"How'd you, uh…how'd you get in here, mm?" Evelyn desperately scanned the room, silently praying that some other woman would dash up and claim the child before something drastic had to happen. The thing gurgled unhelpfully up at her, turning away. Both palms smacked down excitedly onto the floor just beyond its chubby outstretched thighs.

"Ok_ay_," The Goblin Queen warned the uninterested world as if this were some grand joke. "I'm just gonna walk away now. Go back to bed. Alright, then, here I go…"

Her feet were still rooted to the spot. The hope in her face faltered and turned bitter. Damn, but it was worth a try.

"Oh god, why me…"

The threadbare maternal instinct in her knew she couldn't very well just leave the thing here unattended, what with beasties roaming about looking for toes. It was actually a miracle the child had been kept unharmed for as long as it had. One of the goblins, as if sensing she'd been thinking poorly of it, wandered over getting dangerously close to her small charge. Evelyn kicked it away. It rolled to a stop and shook itself off, coming back over. Well, that just about settled it.

Wincing and still clutching onto the hope that some tardy mum would come running up to rescue her, Evey bent and cautiously picked the babe up. She held it before her as if it would explode at any second, grasping it with a minimal amount of finger-contact that she could muster, like it was a dirty rag. Very slowly she made her way towards her throne holding the baby in this unusual position. She set it down and hesitated, attempting to do something more productive than just standing there but not knowing what more to do. The woman frowned down at the baby where it sat tugging at the chair's fabric. It blew a bubble at her and smiled.

"Don't move," Evelyn commanded. "I'll just go fetch Jareth. He'll know what to do with you. _Stay,_" she urged, gingerly crawl-blocking the babe and wiping her finger off immediately on her robe. "Okay. O_kay_. This is going to be fine. I can do this. Won't be but a moment. Oh would you _please_ just stay still?"

The woman took a few experimental steps backward, eyeing the little escape artist warily. She turned briefly and then flipped back around, daring the thing to move. The baby laughed at her.

"Good, good baby. Just stay there," she pleaded again, taking a few more steps backwards. To her utter dismay the boy rolled forward off his diapered bum and crawled precariously close to the throne's edge.

"Oi!"

In desperation the woman crossed back over and debated furiously with herself as to what to do. She couldn't very well carry it back to the bedroom. Just holding it long enough to get it to the throne had been agony.

With a terrible moan she carefully picked the child back up and, not having much else to do, sat down. She placed it on her lap despite her better judgement. Its blubbery skin felt so odd. It was almost mushy soft, like one of those dreadful loquat fruits she loathed so much.

The queen leaned back uncomfortably and held her little prisoner still with the tips of her fingers. She was thoroughly exhausted. Looking forlornly down at him she mumbled, "I hate you."

He gurgled pleasantly up at her and played with the hand secured around his waist. Evey merely sighed.

"I have no idea how you got here but I'll have you know I was much happier before you came." She said conversationally, realising that exhaustion was making her mad. Part of her had been expecting an answer. She made a face and lolled back against the curved bone of her throne. Lord was she tired. The woman blamed this creature entirely for her missed sleep. "I don't suppose the Goblin Kingdom has a lost and found?"

It was entirely too squigqly for her liking.

Evelyn readjusted upon the seat of her chair, pulling her knees up and creating a pen for whatshisface. She stared despairingly down at the babe, so content and carefree to be her prisoner.

She'd never been one for babies. She just couldn't understand them at all.

All her female mates from uni had gone off and gotten married, getting pregnant, gushing at their little bundles of joy, lavishing in the happy life of motherhood. They were content as cats to be someone's mum. Evey had never been one of those women.

"I suppose you think you can just smile at me and I'll go all melty, hmm?" The woman mused while the babe tasted its fists, unconcernedly. "That I'll get all soft on you? Well, that's not going to happen so you can quit trying."

The boy giggled sweetly and gave her a happy look. His big blue eyes stared at her.

"I really do hate you, you know." Evelyn said quietly. After a moment she frowned. "I mean it."

The baby cooed softly, crawling unsuccessfully up her chest. Not quite strong enough he plopped back onto his bum. The woman stared at it. Babies were odd little creatures. He reached up and captured her face suddenly, little hands about her nose.

In the expanse of five seconds, she was mush.

Jareth woke alone and unhappy, feeling a bit of a draft being thoroughly naked and all, and wrapped around a pillow where the enticing bum of his wife should have been. He groggily stretched and buried his lion's mane into the damn thing. It smelled of her. The scent reinforced the anger he felt from being so neglected.

The room was entirely dark so she shouldn't have been up yet. The man laid in miserable silence for a few minutes on the assumption she was in the lady's. When that didn't pan out, concern crinkled his beautiful face and he sat up, letting the sheet fall to his lap. If she had left him to cleaning, he swore to _god…_

With a look of rage he pulled on his discarded clothing and vowed that when he found her there would be _words_.

What he _hadn't_ counted on was finding Evey playing sweetly with…a baby.

The man stared wide-eyed in the doorway, sleep-deprived and alarmed beyond words. His mouth fell open and stayed that way for quite some time before he was finally noticed. Evey sat up promptly and stopped blowing raspberries on the baby's bare tummy immediately. She tried for stately indifference but failed somewhat, cooing inconspicuously at her little charge and quickly kissing his little baby cheeks.

"Uh…" Jareth had no words that could possibly address the terror and astonishment he felt in that confusing moment.

Usually, as a general rule as far as these things went, any and all babes in the castle went through him directly. So, you can imagine the abject bewilderment the Goblin King felt to walk in on one he couldn't account for.

Although admittedly he was rather new to this whole 'sex' thing, this _definitely_ defied all rules of logic, the mysteries of human reproduction notwithstanding. He settled lamely for a, "But we've only _just _slept together" and made more "uh" noises as dictated by the rules of shock.

Evey eyed him darkly, babe getting most of her attention. "Oh don't be daft; he isn't mine. I found him here crying, poor darling."

"Oh thank _god,_" The man mumbled, gaining a little composure. "How'd he get here then?"

"I assumed you knew."

"Oddly enough, no. I think this is the first time one got into the castle without me knowing."

He watched his wife level a most disgustingly affectionate look upon the thing, using a cutesy voice that could cause cavities. "Well, we're just gonna have to figure out where you came from then, aren't we? Yes we are! Yes, yes, yes…"

She kissed the baby thoroughly and then cradled him in her arms, gushing lovingly down at it. Jareth fought against rolling his eyes.

"Are you finished?"

"_No_," Evey cooed in the same sickly sweet tone. She tapped the babe's nose gently and laughed. "My little squishy-ishums."

He rolled his eyes finally, so forcefully he'd almost got them stuck.

"Your Majesty," a tinny voice reported. A goblin with pointed helmet popped up out of nowhere and nervously peered up at the perilous danger clad in leggings and puffed shirt. It looked quite used to beatings, although that fact wasn't necessarily something to be proud of. "We's answered the wish for you while you were…away."

It looked vaguely uncomfortable. With an ugly face it aimed blame towards the queen.

"I _knew _it!" Evey exclaimed. She pulled the baby into her embrace and pointed at the goblin. So they _did _talk. Little _bastards._ She glowered at the beasties, who snickered at their own clever, elaborate joke. Only it had been almost a year under the wretched guise, the slimy little…

"What wish?" The king pulled himself up darkly over his drooling subject, looking imperial. "Answer carefully."

The snivelling goblin groveled at his feet. "Forgive us, sire. The babe was wished away. We only dids what we'd always done. Jus' without you being there."

"Where is its mother now?"

The brave beastie winced up at him, preparing for physical punishment. "We…left her in the labyrinth?

"Don't worry Majesty. We explained about her thirteen hours, right enough. We tolds her the only way to take the wish back was to reach the castle. But she won't, no worries. We've made sure of that."

As if slapped, Jareth shot his head up at Evelyn, going wide-eyed. A guilty look crossed his features. _Oh, sweet merciful god, no…._

"What?" Evey stood, babe and all. The man backed up marginally. "What does he mean by taking the wish back? _You_ said there wasn't appeal process. What does he mean?"

"Precious…"

"_Jareth_, what does he mean?" She demanded quietly, words that carried an edge to them. They held the sort of pronounced restraint that promised at any moment he'd be mauled by a rabid tiger. The Goblin King treaded softly about his Queen, suddenly finding a spot on the floor very interesting.

"Wishes…_may_ be subject to…thirteen hours spent solving the labyrinth. It's the only way to take the wish back."

When he finally turned to face her rage, she was gone.


	8. Chapter Seven

_A/N: [In a most diplomatic voice, over that of a tannoy system crackling to life] Your attention, please. As you will no doubt be aware, due to the lead-up from the last one, this next chapter deals with some heavy topics and goes down a slightly darker path than what you're used to. However, rest assured our normal lighthearted comedy will resume shortly. Thank you for your patience and have a good day [speaker shuts off]._

Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth or its characters. Life can be so cruel.

It's Only Forever

Chapter Seven

"Your Highness! Your Highness!" A cheerfully grim voice interrupted his dejection. He looked down into the ugly face of one of his many nameless goblins. "We have received word the babe's mother is giving up. She's been crying in the outer rim of the Labyrinth, your Majesty. Not even gots into the first part, she hasn't! Been three hours of crying."

"That's nice," He said absently, waving the nasty thing away. The king looked forlornly at Evey's empty throne and made the decision to get up.

"She shouldn't be much longer!" The horrid beastie shouted after him. It turned to the other goblins clustered around the room and jittered with sick delight. "Wants to go torment her again?"

"Yeah!"

"I'll get the stick!"

"I'll gets the glue!"

"Bet she gives up once we get there."

"We'll just trip her up again, that'll do it."

They shared a laugh and ran off, leaving a very confused chicken behind. It clucked in the silent room and wandered away in search of whatever the hell chickens comfort themselves in doing.

Jareth found his wife sitting quietly on the Escher Stairs, baby in tow, helping wave his little arms about without much enthusiasm at all. Evey reminded him of himself sitting there, retreating to this place of all places. They really were so very much alike.

She heard his approach and paused in her gentle ministrations to the babe. Her soft words were not ones he'd been expecting.

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

"…No."

"_Ah_. I see."

There was so much to say that he found himself suddenly unable to speak at all. As perfectly alike as they were, the two were still strangers in many ways. Evelyn was eerily calm which struck him as both surprising and terrifying all the same.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this, you know." He said shamelessly. "You weren't supposed to find out at all."

She turned to him. "Is that all you have to say, then?"

"Is there anything that I _could _say to change the way things have turned out?" He asked seriously.

"No, not really." She admitted. "But an apology might help."

He sat down next to her and stretched his statuesque legs out upon the stairs. After a moment the man took the babe from her lap, relieving her of the burden. Jareth looked at the lad and propped him upon a pleather knee. He was a fine specimen, healthy. Bright eyes. Round pudgy face. Like most other babies over the ages the man decidedly dubbed him 'Jareth'. Astonishingly, Evelyn hadn't protested. On the whole she seemed rather neatly deflated.

"We're sorry," The Goblin King turned with little Jareth to look at his Queen, using the remarkable cuteness of the babe to his advantage. His voice was almost as ridiculously high-pitched as hers had been hours before.

Evelyn snorted despite herself and then turned away, endeavoring to remain dramatic.

He faced the small child and soundlessly expressed his shock in big, animated gestures which made the baby coo and giggle and grab his beak of a nose. The man gave a toothy grin and turned back to his wife.

"Oh Evey, cheer up. You get to spend eternity with me, after all."

The woman gave him a sideways glance.

"Lucky me," Some of her humour was beginning to shine through, much to her chagrin. It was hard to be stoic around him she decided with a pout.

"Always sarcasm." The Goblin King nodded theatrically to the babe, his voice once again going all cutesy. "It's difficult to know when she's being serious, yes it is. Tell her, yes, yes, yes. Tell her it's very unbecoming." He grinned like a pirate at her. "We both agree, darling. It's decided. You're quite disagreeable."

"You love me," The woman protested dryly, coming around only a little. She blamed the baby entirely.

"I _do,_" he shifted a rather charming look upon her, voice all sugar. "As disagreeable as you are." He barked a laugh when his Evey smacked him playfully on the knee. "Better. You're improving already."

"Using him to win me over is despicable, you know."

"It worked."

Evey scrunched up the corners of her mouth. "I should be mad at you. I don't know why I'm not."

"Because you love me."

She bumped into his shoulder slightly, a small huff of amusement escaping her.

"My perfectly rotten mood has been ruined, I'll have you know."

The fact that she wasn't screaming or crying or pinching or slapping struck him as odd. Lord, maybe she really _did_ love him. The Goblin King felt suddenly rather uncomfortable sitting there with her on one side, baby in his lap. Something about the scene was getting to be far too domestic for his liking.

His stony eyes searched her face for a minute, silently noting the hint of smile. The man found himself silently hoping for her to rage against him so he could stop feeling so helplessly sentimental.

A terrible question couldn't help but be asked. He supposed it was just his fatalistic nature coming through, always the tragic lover.

"Do you regret your life here?" _With me,_ he wanted to add but couldn't bring himself to do so.

The woman eventually said, "No." It seemed like an eternity to Jareth. He'd almost died waiting.

"But can I ask you something? Why _did _you lie?"

So many explanations riddled his mind. Jareth tried to grab onto a few but they were as fragile and fleeting as smoke, evading him and dissipating in the face of her question. He put his attention wisely on the baby, having a difficult time deciding what to say.

"Because…you wouldn't have stayed otherwise."

Evelyn knew it was true. In the beginning she _wouldn't _have stayed. But now, things had changed drastically. She'd be lying to herself if she pretended she wasn't in love with this man. The woman stared up at the endless chaos of stairs above; she wanted to believe her love for him wasn't based on circumstance. "I don't know what to say," she admitted quietly.

"I know." He agreed. Their eyes met for a moment. His wife leaned back and stretched out upon the ashlar, arms under her head.

"So what now? Where do we go from here?"

"How about we finally take that afternoon tea in the garden?" He asked playfully, recalling her own words spoken so long ago. The effect was the one he'd intended. Evey smiled up at him and rolled her eyes.

"Dork."

"_Your _dork," The man insisted softly, looking rather insecure all of a sudden.

Jareth relaxed back onto the stone platform with her, baby squat upon his chest and playing with his hair where he held him securely. Their faces were close together, looking up at the world of stairs. The child gurgled happily in his peripheral. It was a nice sort of comfort, being like this. The Goblin King figured getting domestic wouldn't be too terrible if his Queen was by his side.

After a while of lying there in companionable silence, Evey sighed wistfully. "Who knew we'd end up like this, huh? When we first met I thought you were mostly mad."

"Mad?" He asked, playfully.

"Only mostly."

"Glad you changed your mind."

Evelyn closed her eyes, smiling. "Mmm _hmm._ Now I know you're _completely_ mad."

Jareth looked at her, drinking in all the little curiosities that made her unique. Made her his. How startling that someone so beautiful, so perfect, would be his. They really _were_ good together. The niggling unfamiliar urge to care after someone else's happiness itched at him again. It was a feeling he couldn't control for some damned reason.

The Goblin King therefore did a very uncharacteristic thing, knowing even before he started that doing so would most likely be dreadful, but not doing so would be infinitely worse. He sat up.

"Evelyn, I…need to tell you something."

She sat up in turn but said nothing, waiting.

"There really is no easy way to say this." His eyes were all gravity. "That day you wished for me was _not_ our first meeting, dear. I was very well acquainted with you long before then."

His wife snorted, dubious. "I'm fairly certain I'd have remembered you. Not many men wear a sparkly frock and spandex, love."

"No, you hadn't met me. At least, not in any form you'd recognise." Jareth's ancient gaze looked past her into his memory. It was making her rather uncomfortable.

"I knew your aunt," he said as a way of explanation. Her shock was not missed. "Sarah. We…She and I had a brief encounter long ago, before you were born. She wished your father away, actually." The Goblin King frowned down at the babe in his lap, remembering Toby. "He came to my castle. Had she not championed my Labyrinth…but that was so very long ago.

"Just like our little fellow here your father was mine, once, only unlike Toby he'll end up staying here. His mother will give up. They always do. Sarah was the only one to reach the castle in time, ever."

"What are you saying?" Evelyn's voice was barely a whisper. She looked away, troubled. "How is this possible?"

"I won't lie anymore, Evey. Not to you.

"I fell in love with Sarah the moment she found my book. It had been her mother's, you know. Well, that's a story for another time. I fell in love with Sarah," He repeated dreadfully, "But she denied me and tore my heart to pieces, even after I practically begged her to stay. I was devastated when she left."

His heavy gaze met hers, sombre and grave. She'd gone pale, staring. "I was nothing."

Evelyn grasped fretfully at her tunic's collar. She knew the man had his secrets but never had she expected, well, whatever the hell he was gearing to tell her. Something about the lead up was very unnerving. It felt like the sort of terrible story that ended in finding out your mother and father were actually cousins. Or your husband had been born a woman.

"For years I watched her drift further and further away. There were other men and other loves in her life. Other fairytales to champion. Sarah forgot all about me. It was a hopeless case. So…I did something terrible.

"I was at a very low point in my life, Evelyn, and I wasn't thinking about the consequences. I just wanted for my pain to end. So, in a single desperate attempt to end my suffering, I summoned all the power of the Labyrinth and…_wished._" His wife obviously wasn't picking up on the faux pas so, in order to preserve the drama, he was forced to elaborate. The grave tone he'd been using was replaced instantly with his normal voice. "I'm forbidden to make wishes for myself. Very dark magic. I'm actually surprised I didn't destroy this entire kingdom, to be honest. I'm still not sure what went wrong.

"I _wished,_" his voice pressed on once that was established, resuming the great misery of before, "for a second chance at love. The first wish I've ever made and likely the only one I ever will. At the time I imagined it would bring Sarah back to me, but, she never came."

His theatric confession took a pause for effect, choking on the truth. He was nothing if not dramatic.

"Jareth," Evelyn mustered up the courage to say and taking off points for his rather contrived delivery. "If what you're about to say is something dreadful, perhaps you shouldn't –"

"No more lies. I want to tell you everything, all the way from the beginning."

The lack of normal gravity in the Escher room had begun to make her dizzy. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, she weakly nodded her consent. He continued his sordid tale like a man possessed, not noticing her flighty mood. Dehydration was making Evey feel horrid.

"It was a strange time. Sarah never returned to me and I, for a while, believed the wish to have been ineffective. It _was_ terrible magic, after all. The worst kind, in fact. There came a day when I'd given up on hope completely.

"But, then…something happened. I saw _you._ Thirteen years almost to the day. It was as if lightning had struck me. My entire world changed in that moment. A girl near identical to the one I had loved and lost, standing on Sarah's doorstep. Your eyes reflected the same loneliness in my heart. The pain on your face, my pain. I…there are no words to describe how much I loved you then. It was too much of a coincidence to not have been Fate, darling.

"I realised that the second chance I'd longed for, my wish, never had anything to do with Sarah at all. It…had always been meant for _you._"

"Stop," she begged, feeling suddenly faint. The room was rotating slightly onto its side and taking her stomach with it. "Please."

Jareth stared down at her, somewhere far away. The baby pulled on his long hair, fisting a section into its wet mouth. The man chose not to notice. "You were the half of my soul I'd been missing. In that instant I made up my mind to be with you. I…took measures to bring us together."

"Dearest, stop." Evelyn urged quietly and cradled her pounding head in her hand, trying to make the swimming end. She'd become far too hot. It was difficult to breathe.

But he didn't stop.

"The owls which plagued you over the years were my watchful eye into your world. I've known you far longer than you realise. Thirteen years, in fact. Thirteen…" He savored the word as if a rare wine. "I've been waiting for you all of my life, I just didn't know it until that day."

"I _made_ you find the book during Sarah's funeral. I did everything, _arranged_ everything. Even the letter you found. I needed you to wish yourself away. I needed you here with me."

"_Jareth_ –" She couldn't take any more of this. Evelyn stood onto wobbly knees, wanting nothing more than to forget about everything he'd just said. This terrible room was messing with her equilibrium. The woman braced herself lightly on the wall, Jareth finally noticing something wrong with her. He joined her in standing, the baby beginning to fuss as it sensed his mounting panic.

"Are you ill?"

Evey looked about the room, not knowing where to settle her gaze. "I have to go. I can't stay here any longer."

Jareth nodded with concern. "Let's get you back to bed."

He attempted to guide her with his free hand, having secured little Jareth with the other. She faltered. "No, that's not what I mean. I…don't think I can stay in the castle any longer."

The words sliced through him, heart seizing painfully. His eyes hardened. His old friend malevolence was rapping at the door, ringing the bell impatiently.

"…You can't mean that."

The woman, even in the throes of nausea and possibly a nervous breakdown, had enough sense about her to confirm that she, in fact, _did_.

The Goblin King froze, his eyes turning to stone. "No."

"What do you mean 'no'? You can't keep me against my will."

"I can, in fact. I _have_," He intoned darkly. Like a swish of a blade, the nastiness he'd been suppressing for months came out. It was just as dangerous and sharp as it had always been. "A wish, spoken even in a moment of despair, is still a wish, remember?" He reminded in a cold voice, all the anger and spite of her rejection boiling in his veins. He'd become a cruel king once more. "I'm bound to it. And so are _you._ I made sure of that…"

"I'll _earn_ my freedom, then." She countered, eyes throwing him a lofty challenge, even as the world swam about. "I'll beat your Labyrinth. My aunt did it. Shouldn't be too hard."

He roared with ruthless laugher, ruining her confidence. "Sorry, darling, but I'm afraid it's too late for that! _Your _thirteen hour window has ended long ago. There's no undoing the wish now."

She reeled back, frantically. "Well that's just great isn't it? You've just gone and decided my entire life, haven't you?"

"Everything I've done I've done for _you!_" He spat, incensed and callous. With an arrogance he commanded well, the man swept to the mouth of the Escher room, babe and all. It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. She was _supposed _to accept the truth and love him more for it. The man leveled a brutal look upon her. "I loved you for all of those years. I waited and suffered for you. I was miserable! And I've been more than generous."

The woman shook her head at him. "That's not love, _darling._ That's obsession."

She walked past his livid form and, thinking better of it, took the baby from his incredulous arms.

"He's better off with the goblins than with someone like you."

Jareth enjoyed being as unpleasant as possible. "How interesting you should say that. Oh, didn't you know? Once his mother quits trying to solve my Labyrinth he _will_ be a goblin. He'll be one of us, forever."

The woman froze and turned to him, shielding the small child from such a dreadful fate. Her eyes had gone wide.

"What are you talking about?"

The mocking sneer on her husband's face was a terrible sight to behold. "He'll be mine. Exciting, isn't it? Where do you think the rest of my goblins come from? Wayward children, forgotten, forsaken. There's been hundreds over the years."

Evelyn's mouth had gone dry. Shocked and in a wretched state, she turned and stalked back towards the throne room, not sure how to deal with the sudden realisation that she was nothing more than a prisoner, trapped eternally with a devil in tight, glittery trousers. She couldn't believe that the same goblins which had tormented her for months had been…children once. The thought was decidedly sad. Sick. Cruel, even. Memories of hitting them with a meat hammer made her feel marginally guilty.

The queen was sure that after the adrenalin wore off she'd be worthless but for now she sat down and seethed.

Today had been absolutely dreadful. The worst part of it was that despite all the reasons to hate Jareth, and there were a _great _many of them to be sure, she still loved him. _Goddamn it._ That made her a terrible person. Stockholm syndrome, she cited primly.

It's incredible how much she loved that bastard of a man once she really thought about it. He was literally the embodiment of evil, with sequins on. And she loved him.

The baby gurgled unhelpfully up at her. She looked miserably at him for a moment, mourning the loss of her freedom. "Looks like we're both trapped here. Poor baby, I suppose you actually have it worse. Your mum is terrible for giving up on you. I would never ha—"

Then a thought struck her. She looked at the baby again with a surge of delirious plotting. Was it even possible? Could the solution really be that simple? It was just underhanded enough to work.

"Holy…shit."

"I have a proposition," Evey crossed back into the Escher room, shocking Jareth where he sat fuming on the stair. He sneered with apt proficiency but she couldn't care less about that right now. She was downright giddy. "What do you think about making a deal?"

"You'd do wise to stay out of my presence at the moment, is what I think. Unless you want to find yourself bogged. Or spending eternity in an oubliette."

The woman raised a hasty hand in his direction. "Perhaps later. Listen, let's make a deal, alright? You said his mother was giving up, yes?"

"They always do."

"Good."

The man cocked a brow at her odd reaction. She seemed far too enthusiastic to learn of the downfall of humanity.

"So…what if…_I _ran the Labyrinth instead?"

"I _told_ you, _your_ opportunity has pas—"

"Not for _me,_" His wife insisted quickly. She propped the babe up on her hip and smiled brightly at it. "For _him. _What if I ran in his mum's place?"

Jareth stood and folded his arms. Truthfully such a prospect was quite fascinating. Never had anyone _elected_ to solve his Labyrinth in someone else's place. They'd have to be a daft fool. With tetchy reluctance he made an honest effort to seem as disinterested as possible. "I don't see what's in it for me, exactly?"

"If I win we can leave. The two of us, he and I. You'll let us go."

"Again," he drawled as if speaking to a child, "how does that benefit _me?_"

"If I _fail,_ I'll stay here forever –"

The Goblin King barked his reaction to such foolhardy ignorance.

"You already have to do _that._"

Evelyn wasn't going to be intimidated. "If you'd let me finish…I'll stay here forever, _and,_ never mention this again. That's right. Only I'll go back to the way we were as if nothing had happened. That's a pretty damn good deal, mate. I'll be yours forever, for you to do what you like with me. Without even a peep.

"You'll have full control of me forever and ever, just like you always wanted."

The man narrowed his resentment at her, distrustfully. After a long moment of silent debate he eventually said:

"And no more cleaning."

"What?"

"You want your deal or not? That or nothing. Your choice."

His wife scrunched up her face in bewilderment. "Why are you so content to live in filth?"

"That or nothing," he repeated sourly. Jareth would be a damned fool for not using this to his full advantage. "Those are my terms."

"I'm just saying…it's a rather odd condition to throw in there. I mean, maybe you should look into that."

"Take it or leave it."

"…_Fine_."

"Fine," He agreed as pleasantly as a serpent would.

With a nasty glint in his eye they were suddenly standing outside, warm putrid breeze lapping at the pair. Something had most definitely died recently. Its faculties were permeating the air with sickly abandon. Evelyn eyed the sudden shift in location and held a hand to block her nose.

"Oh good _lord,_" she moaned. "I forgot how much it stank."

They were on an unfortunately familiar hill in the middle of dead thorn bushes and miles of sand. The sky above was a mess of red and despair. She recognised it as the same Martian landscape they had arrived at the first time around. In a horrible start, she also realised the baby was missing from her arms.

With sinking dread she found Jareth holding him. He waved 'bye-bye' with the child's hand at her, malicious glee turning up his arrogant mouth. Evey did her best not to flip him off.

"The irresponsible mother has indeed given up, lucky for you. It's fallen rather neatly into place, I should think. Your cunning plan. Have fun, darling, running my Labyrinth. But, I must warn you – you'll get no help from me, Evelyn. Even if you beg, plead. And you _will _beg, mark my words. You'll find out just how treacherous I can be."

"Fine," the woman said again with the air of someone pretending not to care while feeling chaos churning up her insides. She watched him summon the most peculiar clock into existence, held up by the thorn bush. It had thirteen hours to it. He wound the hands up and simpered devilishly at her. "I don't need help proving you're a prat, anyway."

"Reach my castle before the time is up, and you win." He said imperiously. For someone holding a baby he certainly was formidable. The man turned to go but stopped shortly.

"Oh, and there is just one more thing." The clock hands spun forward suddenly, causing Evey to start. "You only have ten hours in which to do so, not thirteen. The mother wasted the first three I'm afraid. _Ta._"

And with that he disappeared into thin air.


	9. Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth or its characters. Life can be so cruel.

It's Only Forever

Chapter Eight

The woman stared daggers at the long channel of stone before her and continued walking, having not much else to do otherwise. She was still in the Labyrinth's outer rim much to her chagrin. Although Evelyn knew _realistically_ something couldn't just stretch on forever, it was doing just that with surprising enthusiasm. Bloody walls. Bloody Labyrinth.

"Bugger it all."

Her headache hadn't subsided despite the fact she'd spent damn near an hour relaxing in her slow gait about this frustrating passageway. She wasn't sure how far she'd gotten at all, actually, since, well, every inch of brick looked the _bloody same_. For all she knew she'd been repeating the same stretch of labyrinth over and over. _Damn._ Damn, damn, _damn._ Somewhere she knew Jareth was cackling at her, the prat. Gloating over his victory.

"'allo?" A small voice interrupted casually.

It had come from the vicinity of her feet. Evey glanced down in surprise and locked eyes onto a strange worm fellow with blue hair done up in three sections about its face. He waited patiently for her to come around and smiled in a peculiar way once she had. He looked suspiciously like a reject from the set of Beetlejuice. It was quite jarring.

"_Ugh_," she winced instinctively at its bloated face, slightly perturbed.

Considering it was the first and only thing she'd come across in this dreadful row of bricks, the woman checked herself and put on a friendly face. Sort of. It really shouldn't have surprised her that a worm could be talking but, well, here it was. "Oh, hello…_uh…_"

"You lost? _Say,_ you look like someone I met before. Long time ago, probably unrelated."

Evey sighed like a woman gone rather mad. "Don't suppose you know the way through the labyrinth, do you?"

"Nah, I'm just a worm. _Say!_ I remember now, yes. That _girl_, the one from before, she asked me somethin' similar way back when. It's been, oh let me think now…"

Well, it was worth a shot.

"Yes, right. Good enough," The woman said quickly. "Would you know how to breach the wall at least? Only I've been walking down this same path forever and wouldn't mind a change of scenery."

The worm frowned up at her, rather lost in thought. His red eyes blinked. "Wot? _Oh_, well, that one's easy. There's openings all over the place, there are. Why, there's one right in front of you now in fact."

Evelyn stared dubiously towards the section of wall he'd indicated. She turned a look upon the worm and said, flatly, "There is?"

"Aye, there is indeed. It's right in front of you. You're just not lookin' right."

"Right there?"

"That's wot I've been sayin'! Say, come inside and 'ave some tea. The missus put a kettle on not too long ago."

The woman wandered slowly to the wall and frowned back at the worm, giving him an opportunity to reveal the joke. He was all helpful smiles. Evelyn glowered and examined the very real set of bricks before her. It was just a wall. Wasn't it? Besides some random glitter here and there it was a normal wall. A proper wall.

Closing her eyes into a terrible wince, Evey stuck her hand out. And through. She cracked an eyelid. "Huh. Well, I'll be damned."

"That's wot I told ya," said the worm primly. "Come _inside_, meet the missus. We've got biscuits I'm lead to believe."

"That's awfully nice of you, much obliged, but I haven't time you see. I've got a prat to beat, long story. Perhaps later. Thank you!" She ran off through the new section, disappearing behind the wall.

The odd little creature shouted worriedly after her. "No! Not _that_ way! Oh, well, she's gone. So much for that."

He shook his head at her bad luck and went back inside to greet the missus, who had tea on sure enough and biscuits to spare. Poor dear, she'd head straight to the castle, going that way.

Evelyn navigated the blasted maze for another hour or two, venturing up several winding staircases, finally finding herself in a wasteland of tan stone walls dotted with the occasional shrubbery. If she'd thought the first round of this Labyrinth was bad, it hardly compared to the fun she was having now.

Stairs led to absolutely nowhere. Everything looked the same. There were hundreds of rows filled with tiresome trickery. Even the shrubbery took turns changing up on her.

She followed a promising path only suddenly to find herself standing at a dead end. Again. "Damn."

With a vexed sigh the woman retraced her steps for the umpteenth time and suddenly paused, flattening herself against the wall. She'd heard a voice.

"…Oh…rotten fairies always getting in the garden." It grumbled a few more choice words and then went back to humming lowly to itself. It sounded like coarse sandpaper grinding over dry logs. "…fourteen."

Evey carefully glanced around the corner and saw the back of a strange fellow, looking for all the world a midget clad in medieval garb. It was an odd sight indeed. His little stubby legs shuffled around a row of shrubbery and nettle, quite oblivious to the woman now standing fully behind him.

"Fifteen," the thing happily intoned. Well, as happy as a self-satisfied curmudgeon could be in the very least. He sprayed again with vigor. "Sixteen, seventeen, oh boy…got quite a nice chain going today."

"Um…?"

The strange man turned in surprise, brandishing his spray gun. He wasn't a midget after all, Evey decided. He was, well, she didn't know _what_ he was exactly.

His skin was a patchwork of leathered wrinkles with fur on. His bulbous nose and exaggerated lips took up most of the room, looking outrageously large on his pinched face. Two eyes which were far too human for her comfort stared back. For a terrible minute the creature mistook her for someone else and his heart seized painfully with something akin to joy. His brow shot up, dragging folds of skin with it. She looked an awful lot like another girl, one he hadn't seen in quite some time and had been missing. He'd almost wobbled over.

But this woman wasn't Sarah.

She was older, thinner. Taller, perhaps. The scowl was new at least.

With a start he realised who this woman really was and nervously sized her up, deciding whether or not she was as much of a threat as her husband. He settled on a slightly shaky 'no' and once that was established, regarded her with disinterest.

"Oh, it's you," He said witheringly. The odd man turned without much more consideration and chased after a curious butterfly. "Eigh_teen_. Blah," he mocked as he shot another one out of the air. The butterfly screamed as it fell. "Serves you right."

On further inspection, Evelyn discovered he'd been spraying fairies. She looked down at the fragile winged girl as it lay in a crumpled pile on the ground. It reached up, beseeching Evey to help it. Something Jareth had told her long ago rang in her mind. _Little nippy pests…_It looked innocent enough, staring up at her with helpless eyes and cooing sweetly. _Too_ innocent. Nothing _that _nice came from around here, she knew.

The woman promptly ignored it, all but escaping the fairy hissing in her direction as she walked past in pursuit of this strange man.

"Nineteen. Twenty, _ha. _Oh, yuck. Bet that won't wash out_._"

"I was wondering," Evelyn interrupted his peculiar game, as he wiped his vest free of what was most likely fairy guts. "Do you perhaps know which direction I can find castle? I seem to be a bit lost."

"Maybe."

The woman pursed her lips when he didn't elaborate further. "Well?"

"'Well', _what?_" The small gardener huffed and sprayed another fairy. She was proving to be rather disagreeable. Even for the wife of that damn Jareth.

"Do you or don't you?"

"Don't I what?" He said. He waved a craggy hand to shoo her off and went back to humming. "Twenty three! Twenty four, ha ha! Gotcha."

"Horrid little leathered excuse for a goblin." She muttered, giving up.

The gardener spun around. "I'm not 'Horrid'. I'm 'Hoggle'. And I'm a dwarf, get it right."

"Dwarf, goblin. All beasties in my book. Good day."

The woman had begun to leave, quite done with the dwarf's grinchy antics. She'd get on quite well without him, thank-you-very-much. Once she figured out which path to take, at least. He called after her, thorough naysayer that he was. "You know what your problem is?"

Evelyn kept walking, ignoring him. He grumbled and followed after. Damn if he wouldn't get the last word.

"I _said,_ do you know what your problem is?"

"I'm still listening to you?" She volunteered.

Two furry brows drew up incredulously over his eyes. "Oh, I don't know why I even thought you was Sarah. You're nothing like her at all." The dwarf stalked away on stumpy legs mumbling darkly to itself. "Lousy queens thinking themselves important..."

Evey frowned. "Wait, you knew my aunt?"

Hoggle stopped and hesitated suddenly, turning. He fixed her with a very distrustful look. "Sarah is your…aunt?

"Yes, she is. Oh, or rather, she…was." The woman corrected herself. "She's died I'm afraid."

Hoggle reeled back, his face a mask of unreadable emotion. He stood troubled for quite some time. When at last Evelyn thought for sure he'd start crying or _worse_, the little fellow shrugged and turned about. He grunted. "Shame. She was my…friend."

"I'm sorry."

The dwarf had almost caved right then but thinking better of it, started off again, not wanting to get involved. Sarah's niece or not she was still Jareth's wife. And no wife of the Goblin King would get his help.

"Hobby?" The woman called after him. "Please wait."

"Ho_ggle,_" he couldn't help but correct, albeit weakly and without much spirit. His eyes were heavy. The dwarf waved his hands at the hopeless situation once more and kept going. "Bah!"

"At least point me in the right direction? That's all I ask!"

"No."

"Fine!" Evelyn called after him, all anger. She didn't look back this time. _Dwarves suck,_ she decided.

Back in the throne room several beasties were in the process of throwing a party of sorts, thoroughly delighted that their King was no longer tied down by that killjoy Queen of his. Every ledge, surface, step, and sill was covered in goblins. Twisted laughter echoed about the castle. Almost the entire Goblin City had turned up for this exceptional celebration. Without someone cleaning up their messes they wrecked the place with no remorse.

Chickens exploded into the air as cavorting masses streaked by, trailing dirty clothes and overturning pots. Feathers and fur rained upon the puddled floor. Music was merrily thumping in the background of this chaotic cacophony, a strange counterpoint.

The babe sat in the midst of it all, sad to be without his mum. He'd been whining about for the last hour or so, despite the great hubbub of goblins around him. No one seemed to be paying him any mind.

Jareth sat on this throne, head in his hand. His riding crop had been fetched some time ago and was mindlessly hitting the boot of his draped leg in time with the music. Cruel eyes looked up at nothing and closed once more, his mind deep in thought. His gloved hand took turns covering his mouth and eyes, rubbing at his throbbing temples once or twice for good measure. There was so much wrong with the world.

Anger and resentment fought with his foolish heart. He'd never felt so conflicted. Heartbroken. Furious. Sad. Lovesick. He raged on with despair. He anguished with indignation.

A terrible sound caught his attention. Several goblins had taken to pulling apart the absent queen's throne. The Goblin King sat up promptly, the riding crop going still.

"No!" His panicked voice was enough to pause all in the room. A cup fell to the ground in ringing metallic finality, rolling to a stop. The sound was pronounced in the silence. Even the baby looked up at him curiously. Jareth realised he'd been shouting and tried for indifference. He settled back down self-consciously.

"Leave it. It'll give me something to…destroy later on."

The gaggle of goblintry shrugged off and took to fighting over a bit of fabric, the music coming back on with a bumpy start. A rather rotund goblin with horned hat on was mostly winning their tug-of-war. A couple unpleasantly gnarled denizens were working to overturn a cask of beer near the porthole window. They succeeded in a great waterfall of alcohol upon the floor. Another hoard across the room had taken to mean-spirited fun. One prankster unwisely shot a spitball at a roosting chicken above where Jareth sat, causing feathers to shower down.

The King glowered for a hot second.

"Damn _beasties,_" He picked a black feather out of his hair and caught himself, gasping. He'd used the moniker his wife had given them. With dark thoughts the Goblin King fell to silence once more. Damn Evelyn. Damn her. _Damn her…_

He made a decision.

"You!" The man got up in a horrid fit, rounding on a shocked goblin. The thing cowered and awaited its beating. A terrible moment passed, the kind of terrible moment that decides one's fate. Jareth's arrogant mouth peeled back into a grin suddenly, teeth showing. He spun around and started to sing a familiar song in dark fun. "You remind me of the babe!"

Evelyn would not win his Labyrinth, it was settled. He was the Goblin King. She was no match for his magic, after all. He wouldn't be so easily conquered.

"Bloody hell," Evey sighed and came to rest at the top of a set of stairs, yielding no outlet. She was thoroughly exhausted and still not feeling all that well. "I swear I'll shrink all your shirts. _All_ of them. Trousers too."

"Who ya talkin' tae?" A voice interrupted her private musings. She spun around. Where wall had been was now home to two doors. Strange card-like guardsmen stood before both. They laughed at her fright. "We wear kilts 'case ye didn't notice!"

Evey stood and brushed herself off, wandering over to the laughing group. She leveled an accusatory look upon them. "This was a dead end."

One of the guards stacked on top of another cried out, "Oh yah? Wot's that behind ye then?"

They all shared another good laugh. Sure enough the stairs she'd only just come up were now gone, replaced by a wall. Evelyn was not in the mood.

"The only wae out ae here is tae try one ae these doors."

"One door leads tae the castle, the other one tae certain deat–"

"—Listen, I'm sure this is all quite lovely fun for you. But I'm in a hurry and I've had just about enough of this Labyrinth to last me a lifetime. I didn't want to do this but you leave me no choice…as your _Queen,_ I command you to tell me which is the correct door."

She stood imperiously, drawing up to her full height and looking down her nose at them as she'd seen Jareth do countless times. And waited. The four guards exchanged a look amongst themselves and burst out laughing. Evey deflated.

"Sorry, but that won't work down here. Yew'll have tae solve this like everyone else, lass."

"It's a sair fecht," Agreed another, as far as Evelyn could tell. She looked at him funny for a bit.

"Fine," The woman growled bitterly. "Alright, get on with it. Tell me your riddle. It _is_ a riddle, isn't it? It's always a bloody riddle."

One of the top door guardsmen looked rather disappointed. She'd nearly ruined his big entrance. He coughed slightly and took up his task, settling into their well-rehearsed routine. "You have tae ask us which the correct one is. Be warned: one ae us a'ways tells the truth, and the other a'ways lies. _That's _the truth. _He _lies."

"Dew not! I tell the truth!"

She'd seen this trick done in a movie before. Only it had been wine instead of wisecrackers, poison instead of preference. Evelyn smiled at her own inner monologue and evil plotting. She'd outsmart them at their own game.

In the very least it gave her moderate pleasure to be just as devious for once. _Inconceivable!_

"But it's so simple," She interjected unfazed, much to the chagrin of all four guards. "Now, a clever creature would say that he was telling the truth and the other is lying because he would know that only a _great fool_ would reach for his door. I am _not _a great fool, so I can clearly not choose _your _door."

"Aye," the second head said, a bit hesitantly. "Wait, wot does she mean?" He looked to his brother on the bottom and they both shrugged.

"But you must have _known_ I was not a great fool. You would have depending upon it, so I can _clearly _not choose the _other _door."

One of the heads on top thought himself rather clever. "Ah _hah! _So yer choos'n that one, then? Right?" His smile froze and he looked to his companion for help. "Right?"

The woman couldn't stop her grin. "Not remotely! Because your accents peg you as Scotsmen, as everyone knows. And Scotland is clearly known for its whiskey. And whiskey is wonderful for getting people drunk at a pub. And drunken people are not trustworthy.

"And so, as you are not trusted by me, I can clearly not choose the _first _door."

The bottom two heads looked up at their counterparts, clearly not understanding. A terrible moment of uncertainty passed between the guards. "Wot she sayin', then, anyway?"

Another head shook dolefully. "Not sure. Maybe the wee gell is havin' a fit!"

Evey laughed heartily, feeling suddenly happy to have befriended a film buff during uni. "Just wait until I get going! Wait, where was I?"

"Scotland!" One head volunteered and then frowned. "No…"

"Nah, how could she be in Scotland? She's standin' right in front ae us."

"She was on the whiskey, I think."

"Oh, I don't think so. She was about to pick _yew,_" Said a blue head down below, spurring his partner to turn and face the other pair. The guardsmen had moved out of the way of their respective doors, trying to make heads or tails of her twisting logic. They'd assumed she'd figured out the riddle, although the verdict was still out on _how._

"She was?"

"Ye don't think so? She said she'd figured us out. That means she was about to choose yew."

Evelyn took the opportunity to creep past their arguing forms, opening the left door unhindered, it being the aforementioned correct door.

"Nah, I don't think that was it."

A red guard made a face, "Well, wot dew I think then?"

"I think ya should shut up." Its partner offered.

"Oh, yew shut up!"

The bottom blue creature merely sighed. "Do us al'a favor and both ae ya shut up."

"Wot?"

"Yapping on al'the time. Think we'd get on _just fine _without ye," the other blue guard commented. They shared a moment together in mutual dissatisfaction and made silent plans to contact the union in the morning, straight away.

"Ye're lucky. Ye're not under _him._"

The red fellow above the complainer was quite distraught. "Wot ye mean, laddie?"

"Ya snore."

"I don't – and anyway, _yew _should lay off the cabbage."

One of the blue guards spoke up. "A'right, a'right... Let's al' agree there shall be no more cabbage. Now that _that's_ settled, lassie, which door dew ya – _oh._"

The four guards found themselves completely alone on the summit. They looked round the empty space the woman had only just been standing.

"She's buggered off," The bottom red one said. "Och! Where'd she go then? It's a dead end!"

They all shared a long, confused moment. One of the guards eventually frowned.

"Ye know, ya really _should_ lay off the cabbage, laddie..."

"…Sorry."

Jareth collapsed in a breathless state upon his throne, still laughing in good fun, thoroughly elated from dancing and merrymaking about the room. The song had ended but music was still keeping a fresh beat in the background of his thoughts. The goblins were heartily mucking up the place. He watched them roam with abandon, enjoying the chaos they created. The man gave a contented stretch and settled down, taking up a lazy crystal just for tradition's sake.

Dancing was just the medicine the doctor had ordered.

He wrapped a leg about his chair and leaned back into a trilling laugh, catching a goblin being clobbered by its brothers and falling down into the pit in the floor. They were infinitely stupid creatures to be sure, but _oh,_ what delicious fun it was to watch them be beaten up. Or mauled. Or worse.

The sound of dismay was lovely to his ears.

Jareth rubbed his chin in deliberation for a moment and then beamed, an idea clicking into place. He sent the goblin nearest him to the bog for no good reason at all, barking with maniacal laughter when the surprised thing disappeared with a _pop_. What fun! What fun, indeed!

He leveled a look upon the babe where it sat and hummed happily to himself, excited to soon have yet another in his collection. They provided such endless entertainment. His serpentine smile grew dark with malice. The Goblin King had fully returned now, arrogant and dreadful. He hadn't felt this good in ages!

He felt so much better in fact, that he could hardly remember what had him so upset in the first place.

"Your Highness!" Came the reminder in tones of shrill subservience, wrecking his mood. "The Queen has breached the door guards at the center of the labyrinth, sire. She's in the boxwood maze now."

"What?" The Goblin King sat up and held a hand to his mouth in shock, no longer smiling. He looked to the giant clock on the wall. "She shouldn't have gotten this far. She shouldn't have gotten this far _at all!_"

The beastie winced up at him. "What shall we do your majesty?"

His sudden burst of infuriation made the informant cower and slip out of sight behind the throne, marginally grateful to not have been bogged as well.

Jareth frowned darkly and swept off of his throne, his eyes set into a cruel line. Images shifted in the crystal he held, focusing on a familiar face. It made his lip quirk with indecipherable emotion.

"I'll just have to pay dear Evey a visit now, won't I?"


End file.
